Chapter 24 Protective Fury
Jeremy
I dialled Luca back, switching to a speaker. "Talk to me."
"We're in the building. On the third floor." There was heavy breathing. The sound of footsteps pounding up stairs could be heard. "I can hear—Cristo, someone's screaming." Luca said through the phone.
"Which apartment?" I asked.
"End of the hall. 3C."
More shouting filtered through the phone. Elena's voice: "Stop! Get off her!"
A male voice: "Shut up, Elena! This isn't your business!"
And underneath it all—a sound that made my blood run cold. Amelia. Amelia was crying out in fear, pain, or possibly both.
"Break down the door," I snarled into the phone.
"On it."
I heard the sound of wood splintering. The sound of a door crashing open can be heard.
Then the chaos unfolds.
LUCA
The apartment door gave way on the second kick.
I went in first, gun drawn, with Nico right behind me.
The living room was small, cramped, furniture knocked over. A lamp shattered on the floor.
And in the center of it all—a blind girl with dark hair swinging a white cane like a weapon, her dress torn at the shoulder, face streaked with tears.
A man—mid-twenties, muscular, had blood running from his nose—was backing away from her, hands up.
"You crazy bitch! I wasn't—"
Elena stood between them with her arms out. "Miguel, get out! Now!"
"This is my apartment!"
"I don't care! Get out!"
Then Elena saw us. Saw our guns. Her face went white.
"Who the hell—"
"Nobody move," I said, keeping my weapon trained on the man. Miguel, as Elena had called him. "Hands where I can see them."
"What the fuck?" Miguel's eyes went wide. "Who are you?"
Nico moved past me, going for the girl. She swung the cane in his direction—fast, vicious.
"Don't touch me!" Her voice was raw and terrified.
"Hey, hey." Marco held up his hands, keeping his distance. "We're not here to hurt you. Boss sent us."
"Boss?" Elena's voice cracked. "You followed me? You—" She looked at the girl. "Amelia, it's okay. They're—"
"Not okay!" Amelia's grip on the cane didn't loosen. "Where's Elena? Elena!"
"I'm here, I'm right here." Elena moved toward her carefully. "Amelia, what happened? Did Miguel—"
"She's lying!" Miguel cut in. "She came onto me! I was just—"
"Shut up," I said, moving closer. "Nobody asked you."
My phone rang. I answered, keeping my gun on Miguel. "Boss."
"Put me on speaker." Jeremy's voice was cold as ice.
I switched to speaker. "You're on."
"Elena." Jeremy's voice filled the small apartment. "What happened?"
Elena's hands were shaking. "I don't—I came home and heard them fighting. Miguel and Amelia. When I got inside, her dress was torn and she was—" Her voice broke. "She was trying to defend herself."
"Amelia." Jeremy's voice changed—became softer, but not less dangerous. "Are you hurt?"
The girl—Amelia—had frozen when she heard his voice. "Who—"
"Answer the damn question! . Are you hurt?"
"I'm—" Her voice cracked. "He tried to—he said Elena wouldn't be home for hours and he tried to rape me."
"I didn't do anything!" Miguel shouted. "She's blind! How could she even know what—"
The sound of a gun being loaded came through the speaker. Loud. Deliberate.
Everyone in the room froze.
"Let me be very clear," Jeremy said, his voice soft and lethal. "The girl you just assaulted? She's under my protection. Which means you just made the worst mistake of your pathetic life."
"I didn't assault anyone!" Miguel's face had gone from red to white. "I didn't even know she was—"
"Luca," Jeremy called.
"Yes, boss."
"Pin him down. If he moves, break something."
"With pleasure." I said.
I holstered my gun and moved on Miguel. He tried to back away but Marco was already behind him. Between us, we got him on the floor face-first, arm twisted behind his back.
"Get off me! Elena, tell them I didn't—"
"You tried to rape her!" Elena's voice shook with rage. "I heard you! I heard her screaming for you to stop!"
"She's lying!"
"Her clothes are torn, Miguel! Her face—" Elena's voice broke. "How could you? She's been through so much already and you—"
"I'm five minutes out," Jeremy cut through the chaos. "Luca, Nico, keep him there. Elena, please ensure Amelia is moved away from him. Now."
Elena moved to Amelia, gently touching her arm. "It's okay. You're safe now. Come with me."
"Who are these people?" Amelia's voice was small. Shaking. "Elena, what's happening?"
"They're—" Elena hesitated. "They're here to help."
"No one's touching her without her permission," Jeremy's voice came through the speaker. "Elena, is there another room?"
"The bedroom. Through that door."
"Take her there. Stay with her. Lock the door if it makes you feel safer."
Elena guided Amelia toward the bedroom. The blind girl moved stiffly, cane tapping, her torn dress falling off one shoulder.
As they passed me, I could see bruises forming on her arms. Fingerprints.
Whoever this girl was to Santoro, Miguel had just signed his death warrant.
The bedroom door closed. The lock clicked.
Miguel was still pinned under me, breathing hard. "This is crazy. You can't just break into my apartment—"
"Your apartment?" Nico laughed. "Tell me, stronzo, is Elena on the lease?"
"What? Yeah, but—"
"Then it's her apartment too. Which means she can invite whoever she wants. Including us."
"She didn't invite you!"
"Didn't hear her complaining."
Through the phone, I could hear Jeremy's driver: "Two minutes, Mr Santoro."
"Good." Jeremy's voice was calm. Too calm. "Miguel, I'm going to give you exactly one chance to tell me the truth. What happened?"
Miguel, with tears now, "Nothing! I didn't—"
"Wrong answer." Jeremy said and The car engine revved. "Try again."
"I didn't touch her!"
"Her dress is torn. She has bruises. And you expect me to believe nothing happened?" I said hitting him with the back of the gun.
"She came onto me! Started touching me, saying she wanted—"
"She's blind, you piece of shit," I said, pressing his face harder into the floor. "She's terrified; she was swinging a cane to defend herself, and you expect anyone to believe she came onto you?"
"I'm telling the truth!" he said. expecting me to believe him
"One minute away," the driver said through the phone.
"Miguel." Jeremy's voice dropped even lower. "When I get there, I'm going to ask you one more time what happened. And if you keep lying—if you keep insulting that girl's trauma by denying what you did—I'm going to make you wish you'd never been born. Capisci?"
"I said, do you understand?" jeremy asked with a venomous voice.
"I understand," Miguel whispered.
"Good. Because in about thirty seconds, I'm walking through that door. And you're going to tell me everything. Every detail. Every moment. And then—" he paused... "Then we'll see what happens next."
The line went dead.
Nico and I exchanged glances over Miguel's prone form.
"Boss is pissed," Nico said quietly.
"Yeah." I shifted my weight, keeping Miguel pinned. "This guy's dead."
"Probably."
Footsteps pounded up the stairs outside. Fast and heavy.
The apartment door—already broken from our entry—flew open.
Jeremy Santoro stood in the doorway, suit jacket open, gun in his hand, his face a mask of cold fury.
His eyes swept the room. Took in the broken furniture. The lamp was shattered. The torn fabric from Amelia's dress is on the floor.
Then his gaze locked on Miguel.
"Start talking," he said softly. "And pray I like what I hear."