Fear claws at my chest, but there’s no time to process it. I push my legs harder, not caring which direction I’m going—only that I keep moving. My pulse pounds in my ears, drowning out everything but the sound of my footsteps as I break through the trees
I have no real bearing of how much half a mile is, all I know is that I keep moving and winding through the thick tree, trying to make sure that I’m hard to shoot. I make it a few more feet before I catch sight of a familiar figure.
Matteo. It’s him.
He’s standing at the edge of a clearing, his gun raised, his sharp gaze sweeping the forest like a predator searching for his prey. A sob rips from my throat, my body lunging toward him before my mind even catches up.
“Matteo!” I scream, my voice raw with desperation.
His head snaps in my direction, his eyes locking onto mine. Relief flickers across his face for the briefest moment—
Then, a gunshot rings out. Pain explodes in my arm—white-hot, searing.
I cry out, my momentum cut short as I crash to the ground. The world tilts. Dirt and leaves grind against my cheek. My arm burns. Warm liquid trickles down my skin.
No. No, no, no.
I grit my teeth and force myself up, blinking through the haze of pain. I can hear Matteo’s furious shout, the rapid fire of bullets.
Giacomo is here.
I have to move.
I push off the ground and stumble forward, my vision swimming. I don’t stop. I don’t look back. Somehow, through sheer will, I make it to the hunting cabin. I slam the door behind me, chest heaving, blood dripping from my arm. The cabin is dark and silent except for the storm raging outside.
I stumble toward the small closet, my body screaming in protest, and press myself against the cold wall, seeking refuge in the shadows. The pain in my arm is sharp—unrelenting. When I glance down, I see the wound is shallow; the bullet merely grazed me, but the sting is still unbearable.
I press the back of my head against the wall, squeezing my eyes shut, trying to steady my breath. I don’t have time to think, but I trust that Matteo or Daniele will find me before Giacomo does. They have to.
I close my eyes, praying to whatever higher power might be listening, begging that we all make it out of this alive. I can’t let this be the end.
Time stretches, each second an eternity. The silence of the cabin presses in on me, suffocating, broken only by the frantic thumping of my heart. Then, I hear it—the slow, deliberate creak of boots on the wooden porch. My breath catches in my throat as I press myself deeper into the shadows.
Who is it? My pulse spikes.
I don’t dare move, don’t dare make a sound. I can’t. I hold my breath, listening intently. The cabin is too quiet—my heartbeat too loud, the rush of blood in my ears drowning out everything else. The door creaks open, the sound slicing through the stillness like a knife.
I stay hidden, every muscle in my body coiled tight. I need to remain unseen. I need to survive.
I slap a hand over my mouth to keep from gasping. Heavy footsteps echo against the wooden floor, slow and deliberate, each step sending ice through my veins.
The terror that overtakes me is enough to tell me that it’s Giacomo. I know it’s him—he is the only one who can bring out that kind of reaction from me.
I slip backward, careful not to make a sound, but my breath is too loud, my chest rising and falling in sharp, shallow heaves. My arm burns, the blood soaking my sleeve, but the panic gnawing at me is worse. Every instinct tells me to stay quiet, but fear is drowning me. I inch toward the corner of the closet, desperate to disappear deeper into the shadows.
A floorboard groans under my weight.
I freeze.
“I know you’re in here, cara mia,” Giacomo chuckles, low and menacing.
Terror lances through me, but I don’t move. His boots scrape against the floor—slow, measured. He’s taking his time, savoring the buildup of this hunt.
“I have to admit,” he muses, “I didn’t expect Daniele to betray me so easily. But his betrayal was inevitable. He never had the stomach for this life—just like his mother. I’ll deal with him later.”
Silence follows his threat.
Then, I hear the sound of tapping against the wood, like metal coming in contact with the surface.
He’s close.
“I wonder,” Giacomo drawls, his voice dripping with malice, “what Matteo would do if he walked in and found your lifeless body—bullet between your pretty little eyes. His precious wife, gone—just like the first.”
He tilts his head, grinning.
“Or maybe we make it more entertaining. He walks in and finds you on your knees—used up, broken, just another one of my discarded toys. I bet he’ll get a real kick out of that.”
I bite my lip so hard I taste blood. My stomach churns at the brutality in his voice.
“Do you think he’d beg for your life?” He hums as if considering. “No… Matteo Davacalli doesn’t beg. But he does bleed.”
The closet door rips open, unexpectedly. A scream catches in my throat as Giacomo’s cold hand clamps down on my wrist, yanking me from my hiding spot.
I thrash against his grip, but he’s too strong. The fire in my arm flares, a burst of agony shooting through me, and I cry out as he shoves me into the center of the room. Tears blur my vision, my breath coming in short, panicked gasps.
He lifts his gun, pressing the cold barrel to my forehead.
“There you are, amore.”
The front door slams open with a deafening crash.
“Let. Her. Go.”
Matteo.
“Oh good, the guest of honor has finally arrived.” Giacomo cackles. “Now the fun can truly begin.”
Giacomo’s fingers dig into my arm like a vice, his gun pressed so hard against my temple that I swear I can feel the cold metal seep into my skull. My breath is ragged, my vision blurred from pain, fear, and the blood trickling down my arm.
But none of it matters. Not now. Because Matteo is here. There’s still a chance—maybe the only one I have—that I might make it out of this alive.
He stands in the doorway, his gun trained on Giacomo, his body rigid with fury. His chest rises and falls in jagged, controlled breaths, but his eyes—those dark, stormy eyes—are anything but controlled. They’re wild, frantic, and filled with terror.
Not for himself. For me.
There’s a slight hesitation in his stance, a flicker of doubt in his movements. And in that moment, I know—he’s on the back foot.
“Let her go,” Matteo growls, his voice low, deadly. His finger twitches over the trigger. “Now.”
Giacomo chuckles, his grip tightening as he pulls me against his chest like a human shield. “Or what, Davacalli?” He cocks his head mockingly. “You’ll kill me? Go on, then. But you’ll have to shoot through your little wife first.”
Matteo’s jaw clenches, his nostrils flaring. I see the battle in his eyes—the hesitation that tugs at him, pulling him in two different directions. I know what he’s thinking: If he moves too fast, if he takes the shot, I’m gone. I feel the weight of his choice pressing down on him. I see the fear—not for himself, but for me. He’s stuck, caught between saving me and holding on to his humanity. And in that moment, I feel the pain of it all—the agony of loving me and knowing he might lose me forever, no matter what he does.
I swallow hard, the tears spilling over my cheeks as I struggle to hold myself together. I don’t want to die. But the thought gnaws at me, the cold reality that if I do, my baby will die with me. The thought is unbearable, but it’s a truth I can’t escape.
Matteo takes a slow, measured step forward, his gun steady in his grip, but his eyes—his eyes are filled with a storm. “This isn’t a game, Giacomo,” he growls, his voice low but heavy with conviction. “All your men are down. I’ve cleared this whole forest. You’re outnumbered. You’re outgunned.”
His words slice through the tension in the room like a blade. He means it. He’s not just threatening anymore—he’s in control. But I can feel the tightrope he’s walking, the delicate balance between keeping me alive and ending Giacomo’s reign.
Giacomo laughs—a low, guttural sound that sends a chill down my spine. “Do you think I fear death, Matteo?” He tilts his head, eyes gleaming with twisted satisfaction. “I didn’t come here to survive. My only purpose is to make sure you lose everything—it’s to ensure that you suffer. That you watch everything you hold dear crumble, piece by piece, until you have nothing left. Nothing but the ruin of your world.”
He drags the barrel of his gun down my cheek, the cold metal sending a shiver through my body. My muscles lock up, bile rising in my throat.
“Take the shot if you must,” Giacomo purrs, his voice oozing with malice. “But know this—you’ll have to shoot through her first. And my finger?” He pauses, a cruel smile playing at the corner of his lips. “It’ll be just as fast in ending her life as yours.”
Matteo shifts ever so slightly—just an inch—but I see it: the war inside him. The agony, the hesitation. I know it as well as I know myself. He won’t risk taking the shot. Not with me in the way.
And Giacomo knows it, too.
I close my eyes, taking a breath, trying to find the strength I’ve been holding onto for so long. The resolve hits me like a wave, and with a tremble in my chest, I open my eyes again, meeting Matteo’s gaze.
“Take the shot,” I whisper, my voice barely audible but heavy with finality.
The room falls into a heavy silence. Both men turn to me—Giacomo’s smile full of disbelief, Matteo’s face twisted in pain as he shakes his head.
“Take the shot, Matteo,” I repeat, the tears slipping down my cheeks, hot against my skin. “Take it.”
If this is how it ends, then so be it. I hope he knows that whatever happens, I don’t blame him.
“Maria…” His voice cracks.
“Take the shot,” I say again, my heart breaking with every word. I lock eyes with him, the man I’ve fallen in love with, the man I’ve given every part of me to. “I will be okay.”
“You heard her, Davacalli. Take the shot. See what happens.” Giacomo presses the gun tighter into my temple, his smile widening. “I dare you.”
The tension in the room is unbearable, thick with impending tragedy, the air charged with the promise of a decision that will change everything.
