Chapter 86 – Shoot. Him

Chapter 86 – Shoot. Him
Lucia’s POV

The engine hummed as we drove down the long, empty road, the tires crunching over gravel and broken glass. A thick fog hung close to the ground, like the world was holding its breath. The old warehouse stood ahead, rusted and silent, like a grave. My heart pounded with fear and anger.

Dante was in there.

Alive. Probably bleeding. And surrounded by monsters. 

“Stay in the vehicle,” one of the mercenaries growled. “We clear the perimeter, eliminate hostiles. You move only when we give the go.”

“The hell I will,” I snapped, already unfastening my seatbelt. My voice was steel.

The leader glared at me from the passenger seat. “This isn’t a rescue op for civilians.”

“No,” I agreed. “This is a paid mission. And if you want your money, I’m coming with you—because he’s not dying tonight.”

There was a tense beat of silence.

Then, with a reluctant grunt, he nodded. “Stay close. Don’t get in the way.”

I grabbed my baseball bat and followed them into the abyss, wishing I had learned how to use a gun.

Lucas stayed in the car.

We moved quietly through the building, room by room, checking every corner and doorway. The mercenaries used silencers, so there was no loud gunfire. Just soft clicks as they shot, and the sound of bodies falling to the ground. Gabriel’s men didn’t stand a chance. Blood spread across the floor, and the air smelled like smoke. My chest hurt with each breath, but I kept moving.

And then we found him.

The mercenaries slowly opened the final door.

Time slowed.

Vincenzo stood in the center of the room, his bruised face twisted in a sneer, a knife hovering at Dante’s throat. Dante—bloodied, beaten, bound to a metal chair. He looked like a fallen god, broken but defiant, eyes locked on death with nothing but hatred.

And for one heartbeat, I couldn’t breathe.

Then…

Crack.

One shot. A single, clean bullet tore through the air and slammed into Vincenzo’s skull.

He crumpled like dead weight.

“Move!” the mercenary barked as chaos exploded around us. Gunfire tore through the warehouse, bullets pinging off metal beams. Gabriel had vanished like a phantom, leaving the place strangely silent except for the ringing in my ears.

I dropped to my knees beside Dante, fumbling at the leather straps.

“Dante,” I whispered. My voice cracked.

His head lolled toward me. Blood soaked his shirt and seeped between my fingers. Too pale. Too still.

“Stay with me. Please. Look at me. It’s Lucia.”

The bindings gave way. His weight crashed into me.
I almost buckled, knees scraping the concrete. Gunfire echoed somewhere, distant and muffled.

Every shot made my pulse jump.

We dragged him behind a stack of crates, away from the open floor. The air stank of smoke, oil, and blood.

“You’re burning up,” I muttered, trying to steady my hands as I ripped open his shirt. A jagged wound tore through his shoulder…. deep, angry, still bleeding. My stomach twisted at the sight, but I couldn’t afford to fall apart. Not now.

I tore a strip from the bottom of his shirt and pressed it against the wound. Blood bloomed fast, soaking the cloth, slick and hot against my skin.

What if it wasn’t enough? What if I was too late?

“You’re not allowed to die,” I whispered, voice cracking as I pressed harder. “Do you hear me? Don’t you fucking dare.”

He didn’t answer.

I glanced around, desperate, until my eyes caught a rusted toolbox shoved beneath a nearby shelf. I scrambled for it and yanked it open.

A battered first aid kit lay inside.

“Thank God.”

I ripped into it—gauze, tape, alcohol pads. I pressed the gauze into his shoulder, hard. Dante flinched, teeth clenching, a guttural groan escaping his throat.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.” My voice shook. “Just stay with me. Please.”

I taped the gauze in place, tightened a makeshift bandage, and kept pressure steady with my palm. His breathing began to even out, but his skin was still pale, slick with sweat.

“Dante?,” I whispered.

Nothing.

For a second, I thought I was losing him. His eyes fluttered closed, his chest barely rising. My heart stopped.

Then he stirred…. slow, painful, but awake.

He looked at me, dazed. “Lucia…”

Tears blurred my vision. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

His fingers twitched against mine. “Gabriel… he’s still out there.”

“I know,” I said softly.

“I have to finish this.”

“No,” I snapped, voice sharp to mask the tremble. “You can barely sit up. You need a hospital—”

“I need revenge.”

He pushed himself up with a grunt, blood still leaking from the edges of the bandage, but fire burning behind his eyes. He looked like death, and still, somehow like vengeance incarnate.

He reached for the pistol lying near a fallen guard and checked the mag.

I scrambled to follow, but he held up a hand, eyes sharp. “Lucia, stay here.”

I hesitated, then squared my shoulders. “I’m not letting you do this alone.”

He gave me a weary look. “I can’t protect you if you come,” he said, voice low, full of strain. “Not like this.”

“I don’t need you to protect me,” I whispered. “I just need to be there. With you.”

He sighed, a pained sound, like he’d already known I’d say that.

“I figured you wouldn’t listen,” he muttered. “Okay. But if you come… you stay close. Gabriel’s a ghost,” he muttered. “He doesn’t fight fair. He’ll twist whatever or whoever he has to.”

I nodded. “Then let’s make sure he doesn’t get the chance.”

He studied me for a long moment, then nodded. “Fine. But don’t get reckless.”

We moved through the narrow hallway, past more bodies. The mercenaries had swept the upper levels, but gunfire still echoed faintly, distant shouts and chaos on the far side of the warehouse.

They’d secured most of the building, but to avoid tipping off Gabriel’s men, Dante and I had to move in quietly, alone.

Dante followed a trail of fresh footprints, faint and fast.

I stayed at his side.

We passed through a rusted metal door into another section of the warehouse, this one darker, colder, quiet in a way that made my skin crawl.

The air was too still. No footsteps. No voices. Just the distant metallic creak of the old building settling.

Then…

Fingers like iron closed around my throat. A blade kissed my skin.

Gabriel.

I didn’t scream. Didn’t move. Only gasped. More in shock than pain, but I caged it. I couldn’t afford fear. Not now. He wanted me scared. I wouldn’t give him that.

“Don’t move,” he rasped behind me.

I hadn’t heard a single footstep. No whisper. No shadow.

“Drop the gun, Dante,” he said softly, like we were all just pawns in his game. “Or I open her throat.”

Dante stopped mid-step, gun raised.

“Let her go,” he said, voice ice. “This is between us.”

“You know better than that,” Gabriel hissed. “She came back for you. How poetic.”

“I said let her go,” Dante growled, but there was a strained crack in his voice.

The knife pressed deeper, sharp enough now to split skin. I felt the hot trickle of blood roll down my neck.

My breath hitched. Every instinct screamed to flinch, to cry out… but I forced myself still.

“Drop the gun,” Gabriel hissed. “Or she dies right here.”

Dante’s stance faltered. His grip on the pistol slackened ever so slightly. His jaw clenched, eyes locked on mine, torn.

I saw the war inside him. The need to protect me battling the killer’s instinct that said to pull the trigger. His hand trembled, something I’d never seen.

I shook my head once, subtle but sure. My voice came out raw.

“Don’t,” I whispered. “Don’t you dare drop that gun.”

He flinched like I’d slapped him, eyes burning now, pain written all over his face.

Gabriel’s grip on me tightened, the knife digging in further.

“Shut up, girl.”

I ignored him, eyes only on Dante.

“Dante,” I choked out, blood trailing down my neck. “Shoot. Him.”