A Ball for the end
I saw him get up, leave the terrace, head toward his black car.
Dario.
It only took a single breath to decide.
I spun around, ran to the alley where I’d left the Dodge. My helmet snapped against my face, the engine roared, and I went after him.
He hadn’t seen me. Not yet.
But I was on his tail with the fury of a woman who had nothing left to lose.
I didn’t want Alessandro in this. I didn’t want him hurt.
Ever since the threat… ever since that phrase—
Leave him or I’ll kill him.
Something had flipped inside me.
I knew then that I loved him. Completely. Madly. Desperately.
And that I was ready to die to keep him alive.
I throttled up, slipping through the alleys like a hunting animal.
Dario turned left, suddenly slowed.
And right then… he knew.
He braked. Stopped dead center in the street.
Slowly. Like he’d planned it all.
“Shit,” I whispered.
He turned. Drew.
A clean, sharp move.
Bang. Bang.
My tire blew. The bike wobbled. I was thrown forward, my body slamming the asphalt in a brutal shock.
Skin tore along my arms. My breath jammed in my throat.
The world spun. Blurred. Red.
I hadn’t hesitated.
The second she took off, I followed, heart hammering like a war drum.
I saw her far ahead, her rage, her black-angel fury.
But I also saw the trap. The slow-down. The stop. The gun.
And then…
The shot.
The bike lurched. Hope flew. Hit the ground.
Everything went silent in my head.
He raised his weapon again, aiming at her.
I drew.
And without thinking—
I fired.
One shot.
Clean.
Between the eyes.
Dario dropped backwards like a broken puppet.
I jumped off the bike, ran to her, my heart slamming, my throat burning.
“Hope!”
She was on the ground, breath ragged, blood on her forehead, arms, elbows. But her eyes opened.
She saw me.
And whispered, between trembling breaths,
“I didn’t want… you to see this…”
I cupped her face in my hands, crazy with fear, crazy with love.
“And I don’t want… you to die.”
I kissed her. Salty. Wild. Burning.
She gave a weak smile, but it was still there.
“You really shot him in the head, huh?”
I pulled her against me, ignoring the blood.
“I told you I’m yours, Hope. You’re mine too. You scare the hell out of me… but I’m never letting go.”
She exhaled softly, her fingers gripping my collar.
“You haven’t seen everything yet, Romano.”
“HOPE!”
No answer.
Her eyes had closed, her ragged breathing slowing.
I held her in my arms, asphalt pressed to her back, her blood on my fingers — hers, not mine — and still I felt like I was dying in her place.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. I answered without even looking.
“Yeah?”
“Alessandro?”
Lorenzo’s voice. Breathless.
“I need an ambulance. Right now. I’m sending my location. She’s unconscious. Hurry.”
I heard a muffled curse. Then Matteo’s voice in the background.
“I’m calling.”
Lorenzo came back on, calmer now, as if he had to slip on a mask to stay upright.
“Just before… five minutes before your call. She phoned me.”
My heart clenched.
“What?”
“She said: I know I’m about to do something stupid, but if I don’t come back… tell him. Tell him I love him desperately, maybe to the point of madness… but I love him. That I don’t want anything to happen to him. That I’ll sacrifice my life so he can live.”
He paused. His voice cracked a little.
“Now… it’s done.”
I closed my eyes. The world lost its colors.
And far away, sirens tore through Palermo’s silence.
“…if you survive, Hope Jones,” I whispered, “I’m marrying you.”