165

165
Raella's POV
“Raella.”

The desperation in Vincenzo’s voice made me want to weep. My dad had been right:

It was obvious he loved me. It was the only thing he wore on his sleeve.

I wanted to open my eyes and tell him that I was awake. That I was okay.

But I couldn’t. Not yet.

“It’s too late for her,” Carmella said. “Say goodbye.”

I had been waiting for the right moment. Really, I had been waiting for the buzzing in my ears to ease and my balance to return. I would be dead long before that happened, though. Unless I acted now.

I felt Carmella stiffen. I knew this was it.

She was going to kill me.

All at once, I slammed both hands up and swung her arm—and the gun—away from me… at the same moment she pulled the trigger.

The sound of the shot pierced my eardrums, but I powered through the pain. The time for rolling over and waiting for someone to save me was over. Vincenzo and Giselle hadn’t trained me for nothing. They had trained me for this.

“What the—” Carmella froze for a few precious seconds. The still-smoking gun was in her hand, aimed at the front door instead of my head.

And I lunged.

Distantly, I heard Vincenzo laugh in surprise. I tuned it out. I tuned out everything except Carmella’s hollow, angry face. I focused on her sunken-in eyes… so I could scratch them out.

She tried to swing the gun back at me, but I grabbed her wrist and twisted. She elbowed me in the ribs and kneed me in the inside of my thigh, but I didn’t let up until the gun clattered from her hand and fell to the floor.

“Push her back!” Vincenzo yelled. “Get away from her and I’ll shoot.”

I tried, but Carmella clung to me. She knew I was the only thing standing between her and being shot dead.

Carmella wrapped her hand around my neck and spun behind me. My head was already fuzzy, and her pressing on my windpipe wasn’t helping.

“You can’t fight me, Raella,” she whispered in my ear. “I’m stronger than you. I’m tougher than you. I want this life more than you do.”

I clawed at her arm.

Vincenzo moved closer, but then I felt it. A blade pressed to the side of my neck.

“She has a knife,” I gasped.

Vincenzo stopped in the middle of the room. I had never seen him so tortured. Torn between keeping me safe and wanting nothing more than to rip Carmella’s head from her body.

“That’s right. I have a knife.” Carmella cackled. “Raella here keeps destroying all of my plans, so I came with plenty of backup. It’s time you learn that you can’t steal from other people and get away with it.”

“You think I stole something from you? You’re the one who stole my life. My husband!”

“The only reason you know Vincenzo is because I dressed you up and pushed you in the right direction,” she snapped. “If it wasn’t for me, the two of you would have broken up once Vincenzo completed his little mission. You’d be back waiting tables at Winslow’s, pretending you didn’t regret letting Vincenzo get away. Maybe that would be better than how things are going to turn out for you. At least you’d be alive.”

I shook my head, talking more to Vincenzo than to Carmella. “No matter what happens, Vincenzo is worth it. He’s worth every insane thing you’ve put me through. We aren’t together because of you. We’re together because we love each other. Because we are meant to be. You had nothing to do with it.”

The tip of the knife twisted into my neck. I felt a warm trickle of blood running over my skin.

“One thing is for sure—even if you think I had nothing to do with getting you two together: I’m going to have everything to do with keeping you apart. In the end, Vincenzo’s future is in my hands. His fate belongs to me. Vincenzo is mine.”

She was insane. Carmella was certifiable.

But hearing her claim Vincenzo with so much conviction was all it took to send rage burning through me.

Suddenly, I was back in the training room with Giselle. She was behind me, her hand wrapped around my neck.

“Destabilize,” Giselle had instructed. “That’s your only goal in this position. You want to get the person off balance long enough to escape. Slam them against a wall, kick their kneecaps, rock back and forth—whatever it takes to loosen their grip.”

Without another thought, I grabbed Carmella’s wrist and prayed my grip was strong enough to keep her from stabbing me in the throat. Then I threw all of my momentum backwards and slammed her spine against the wall.

I felt the air whoosh out of her, hot on my neck.

Vincenzo rushed forward, but I wasn’t waiting for him. Not when I had her exactly where I wanted her.

I spun around, grabbed her wrist with my other hand, and drove Carmella’s own hand—still holding the knife—straight up into her jugular.

Her eyes went wide as hot blood pulsed from her neck and poured over our interlaced hands. Her lips moved, but no words came out. I was glad. The time for her to explain and rationalize was over. She had been a crazy bitch, and now, she was a dead, crazy bitch.

“The only person’s fate you should have been worried about is your own,” I said, stepping back as she slid to the floor. “Vincenzo belongs to me.”