Left To Die, Finally Free Chapter 04

Left To Die, Finally Free Chapter 04

White–hot agony lanced through my collarbone, the silver letter opener buried inches deep.

Black spots swarmed my vision, my breath coming in ragged, broken gasps.

Marco’s hand froze on the handle, his red–hot rage snapping into stunned disbelief.

He didn’t even pull the blade out, just stared at the spreading bloodstain on my chest, unblinking.

My strength gave out, and I crumpled into the pool of my own blood.

It didn’t matter.

I was almost home.

The room erupted into chaos.

Marco dropped to his knees, shoving his palm against the wound to stem the bleeding, and roared at the button men by the door:

“Get our family physician! Now! Move your fucking asses!”

Vincent and Draven sprinted over.

Vincent ripped off his custom Brioni jacket, crushing it against the wound, his face paper–white.

He spat “You’re out of your fucking mind” on a loop, but his hand shook so bad he could barely hold

pressure.

Draven crouched beside me, his fingertips brushing my ice–cold cheek, his eyes wild with a raw, unhinged panic I hadn’t seen in four years.

Through the haze, my gaze locked on Luca Marcelli, frozen at the back of the room.

He’d ridden up overnight from the Chicago Outfit’s smuggling route, dust still on his boots, pupils blown pinprick–wide as he stared at the hole in my chest, rooted to the spot.

“Luca…” The name slipped out, and childhood memories crashed in.

Back when we were kids, he’d follow his father into the Rossi compound; while the made men talked business, we ran the numbers racket in the back halls.

He’d given me his prized snub–nose.22, voice steady.

“From now on, I protect you. If I fail, this will.”

I’d smiled, told him Rossi women don’t need protecting.

He’d been one of The System marks.

Marry him, and I’d go home.

But when Rosa showed up, he threw it all away.

“Rosa’s fragile“, “You’re being irrational“, “I’ve never seen a woman eaten up with jealousy like this“.

The day he tore up our engagement papers in front of every capo in the Five Families, I said nothing.

Later, I married Marco, became the Costa Donna.

Rosa dropped Luca, and set her sights on my husband.

As my vision faded to black, I laughed.

Twenty–one years I’d begged these four men to love me, to finish this godforsaken System mission.

Only when I drove a knife into my own chest did they finally see me.

I woke in the Costa compound’s top–floor med suite, my chest wrapped tight in bandages, every breath a searing tear.

I knew instantly what happened: I was born with dextrocardia.

My heart sits on the right side of my chest.

I’d missed.

Vincent sat beside me, dark circles under his eyes.

He’d used the last of the Rossi family’s three black–market cardiac ampoules on me

He blinked awake, then scoffed.

“If Marco hadn’t pulled back, not even God could’ve saved you. Why the stunt?”

The rest of them lined the room, their tones identical: every word a lecture, every glance a judgment.

Rosa huddled behind Marco, eyes wet, whispering that she’d only wanted to bake a cake, that this was all her fault.

I let out a sharp, bitter laugh, hissing at the pain in my chest, and stared them all down, voice rough with four years of pent–up rage.

“Explain what? That I never laid a finger on Rosa? That every fucking thing that’s happened was her lie?”

I leaned forward, eyes blazing.

“I said it a thousand times. Did any of you ever believe me?”