Chapter 7 - THE MOTHER'S WRATH
The heavy silver money clip struck Sophia squarely in the forehead with a sickening crack.
She shrieked, stumbling backward. Her grip on Ethan faltered for a fraction of a second.
It was all the boy needed. Driven by pure survival instinct, Ethan bit down hard on Sophia’s forearm and wrenched himself free, scrambling frantically across the wet grating toward me.
Sophia recovered instantly, her eyes flashing with demonic rage. She raised the knife, lunging forward to grab the boy’s ankle.
A gunshot tore through the rain.
Sophia froze. The knife slipped from her fingers, clattering onto the metal catwalk. She looked down at her chest, a look of profound confusion washing over her face as a dark red stain rapidly blossomed across the silk of her dress.
She swayed, her knees buckling, and collapsed onto the grating.
I hadn't fired. My gun was still lowered.
I turned around.
Standing at the top of the stairwell, leaning heavily against the railing for support, was a woman in a hospital gown, soaked to the bone, clutching a smoking pistol.
Evelyn.
She looked like a ghost. Her skin was translucent, her lips blue from the cold. The surgical bandages across her abdomen were slowly soaking through with fresh blood. But her eyes—her beautiful, fierce brown eyes—burned with the protective fury of a lioness.
“Evelyn!” I screamed, dropping my gun and rushing toward her.
She collapsed into my arms just as I reached her. I lowered us gently to the metal floor, cradling her head against my chest.
“You shouldn't be here,” I sobbed, pressing my hand over her bleeding bandages. “You should be in the ICU! How did you even get here?”
“One of your men... drove me,” she whispered, her voice barely a breath over the sound of the rain. She coughed, a terrible, rattling sound. “I woke up. They told me you came here. I couldn't... I couldn't let you face them alone.”
I kissed her forehead, my tears washing the rain from her face. “I’m so sorry. Evie, I’m so sorry. I know everything. I know what you did to save Leo. I know what you sacrificed.”
She smiled weakly, reaching up to touch my cheek. “You know?”
“I know,” I choked out.
“Dad?”
I looked up. Leo had crawled out from behind the winch, leaving Tony’s side. The ten-year-old boy walked hesitantly toward us.
Evelyn’s eyes fluttered open. When she saw Leo, a sound escaped her throat—a sound of such profound, agonizing joy that it broke me completely.
“Leo,” she sobbed, reaching out a trembling hand.
The boy fell to his knees beside us, burying his face in his mother’s neck. “Mom. You came back. You promised you’d come back.”
“I’m here, baby,” she cried, kissing his wet hair. “I’m right here.”
I wrapped my arms around both of them, shielding them from the storm.
“Vincent.”
I turned my head. Ethan was standing a few feet away. He was staring at Sophia’s lifeless body, then at Carlo, who was groaning in agony on the floor. The boy looked utterly lost, a child without a family, standing in the cold.
Evelyn saw him. Without hesitation, she reached out her other hand toward Ethan.
“Come here, sweetheart,” she whispered gently.
Ethan hesitated, then practically threw himself into our huddle, crying into my shoulder.
My men finally flooded the catwalk, securing the area.
“Get the medics!” I roared to Tony, who was clutching his bleeding shoulder. “Get my wife back to the hospital now!”
As my men lifted Evelyn onto a makeshift stretcher, I walked over to where Carlo lay bleeding. I looked down at my older brother.
“Vincent,” he gasped. “Have mercy.”
I stared at him, feeling absolutely nothing.
May you like
“You’re dead to me,” I said.
I turned my back on the mafia, on the empire, and walked away in the rain, holding a son in each of my hands.
