Chapter 100 Are You Ok

Chapter 100 Are You Ok
Rose

"You're not going to shoot me," he says confidently. His eyes meet mine. "Are you okay, baby?"

I nod.

"We need to get Marie to the hospital."

Enzo exhales. "Jason, take her."

Denise doesn't move as Jason approaches the little girl on the floor. I'm glad she's still conscious, though she looks very weak, her brown eyes blinking slowly.

"Isa, you go to the hospital with Matt." Jase will take you.

Isabella hesitates, her gaze sliding to Denise.

Enzo's jaw clicks. "I didn't ask, Isa."

"Don't kill her, please," she begs, running with Matthew before he can reach his mother.

I sigh with relief as they disappear through the front door. At least Marie will be okay. Some of the men guarding the house have wandered inside, looking for the cause of the trouble. Enzo tells them to leave until there are only three of us left.

Me, Enzo, and Denise, who is still pointing the gun at him. Seriously, her hands must be hurting by now. “Aren't you tired of holding onto this?” Enzo asks dryly. Despite myself, I can't help but smile slightly. Great minds think alike. “Drop the gun, Denise.”

She shakes her head. Enzo's jaw tenses.

“You disappear for weeks and only come back to hold someone at gunpoint in front of your children,” he says angrily. “Mother of the Year.”

Denise finally speaks.

“Do you want to know where I've been?”

“Isabella mentioned you went on a trip to clear your head.” I confirmed that you were still in the US, and after that, I stopped caring.

"You should care," Denise says, her voice almost hysterical. "You really should care. I was looking for him."

What?

Enzo's eyes narrow slightly. As if he knows exactly who she's talking about.

"But he's dead," Denise mutters. "It's truly such a shame. I was going to give him a job. Can you guess what it is?"

I have no idea what they're talking about, and it infuriates me.

"You know," Enzo says, his voice so cold it sends a shiver down my spine.

"Of course I know," Denise laughs. “It could have happened long before I married Leo, but his brother’s wife told me. You remember her, right? She died of cancer. But in recent months, she told me everything. How your uncles conspired to kill their brother. They hired someone to do it. Someone who would do the job cleanly would kill you all. But you didn’t die,” Denise says sadly.

My hand flies to my mouth, and I suddenly feel ill. Enzo doesn’t look at me. I swallow the scream that threatens to burst from my throat. Sadness fills me. I can't even imagine what he must feel. But when I study his expression carefully, not detecting even a hint of surprise.

"You knew," Denise says, confirming my thoughts.

"Of course I fucking knew," Enzo manages. "No one but his brothers would have benefited from my father's death. I got that confirmation when I was seventeen. After I heard them gloating about it. They were always damn fools."

"Y-y-you never did anything," Denise stutters.

"I didn't," Enzo agrees. "I could have. After I heard them laugh and make fun of my father, I could have killed them both. I had so many chances to kill them. And part of me wanted to. You have no idea how much I regret not doing this now, Denise," he says, his words tinged with anger.

"Why didn't you do it?" she asks, her voice low.

"I didn't kill them because, while they may have given the order, they weren't the ones who slit my father's throat. They aren't responsible for my mother's murder. I saved my revenge for the man who actually did it. My uncles were insignificant. Moreover, they succeeded. They were idiots, but they succeeded in killing my father, so I decided to let them live. I wasn't ready to become Don back then either. They only lived this long because I deemed it necessary.”

I can't move, I can't breathe. All I can do is watch in shock."

"You're sick," Deniz mutters.

"That's right." My seventeen-year-old thought it was okay to kill those responsible for my father's death. But I'm not seventeen anymore, and I literally have no reason to keep you alive. “Now tell me, why did you try to contact the Butcher?”

"Leo never trusted you," Denise says, her voice shaking. "He always said they shouldn't have let you live. That you'd stab them in the back. He said you'd kill him. That you'd kill all of us."

"I killed him," Enzo says, sounding bored.

"Yes. And I was terrified. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep. Because I was left alone, and you were the Don. There was nothing I could use against you. I couldn't throw the kids out of the house. I thought you were going to hurt them. I lived in fear of you for the last two years.”

"So you went looking for the Butcher to see if he could finish the job?"

"Not just you," Denise says. "Her too. I wanted you both dead."

She points at me, and that's a big mistake. Enzo's mask falls, revealing the rage lurking beneath.

"Don't look at her, damn it. And you won't touch her, damn it," he growls. “I can’t do anything anymore. I couldn’t find the Butcher,” Denise says, the pain clear in her voice.

My eyes widen as the gun in her hand falls to the floor. No, no, don’t, I want to tell her, but the words won’t leave my lips. This is her only defense. With every passing second, I grow more wary of Enzo’s next move.

Denise looks on the verge of collapse.

“He’s fucking dead,” Enzo spits. “He’s dead, and I’ll never get revenge. But maybe killing you will ease this damn pain in my chest a little.”

He draws his gun, and it spurrs me into action. My stomach drops, a cold sensation enveloping me as I realize what he's about to do.

"No!" I scream, stepping between him and Denise.

Enzo's eyes cloud over. But when I reach for his hand, he stops, staring at me. "Stay back, princess."

His voice is a little calm, but its edges are rough.

"I can't do this," I say quietly, but he doesn't listen.

His jaw clenches as he looks back at Denise. His hand tightens on the trigger of the gun, and I stand in front of him, blocking the woman.

"Damn it, Rose. Get away!" he screams.

"No. She's Marie and Matthew's mother. Their mother, Enzo! They're still your cousins ​​and don't deserve to lose their mother," I plead. "You, more than anyone, should understand what it's like to grow up without parents."

My chest heaves as I try to make him look at me. But his gaze is fixed on a spot behind me. On her.