Chapter 15 The Crossfire of Souls
The night air, once cold and still, shattered into a thousand jagged pieces. The crack of the sniper’s rifle echoed through the trees a sound so sharp it felt like it was splitting Lisa’s skull. She didn't have time to scream; Silvio’s weight slammed into her instantly, his massive frame driving her down into the cold dirt and rotting leaves.
"Stay down!" he roared, his voice vibrating against her chest. "Don’t you dare breathe!"
Bullets began to chew through the bark of the oaks around them. To her left, Dante had already vanished into the thicket, a coward chasing the shadows. To her right, Silvio’s men were returning fire, their muzzle flashes lighting up the woods like hellish strobe lights. Through the chaos, the red dot of the sniper’s laser continued its frantic dance, searching for Silvio’s heart.
"They're everywhere," Lisa gasped, her fingers digging deep into the mud. "Silvio, they’re going to kill you."
"Let them try," he spat. He rolled off her just enough to draw his weapon, but he didn't move away. He stayed anchored over her, a human shield made of muscle and stubborn pride.
A bullet hissed past his ear, clipping a branch that fell onto Lisa’s shoulder. She looked up and saw a man emerging from the dark not one of Silvio’s, but a mercenary wearing the insignia of her biological father’s house. He had his rifle leveled at Silvio’s back.
"Silvio! Behind you!"
Silvio spun, firing two rounds that dropped the man, but another took his place. Then another. This wasn't a kidnapping; it was an execution. Her biological father wanted the Moretti line ended, and he was willing to put a bullet through his own daughter to ensure there were no witnesses left behind.
"Go to the hollow log!" Silvio commanded, shoving her toward a fallen tree ten feet away. "Move, Lisa! Now!"
She scrambled on her hands and knees, the velvet of her dress tearing and staining black with muck. She reached the log and huddled inside its damp, rotted core. From her vantage point, she watched the man she was terrified of loving turn into a god of war. Silvio moved with a terrifying grace, dodging from tree to tree while his gun barked rhythmically.
But then, she saw him. Dante.
Her child’s father appeared from the brush behind Silvio. He wasn't aiming at the mercenaries; he was aiming at Silvio’s head. In the chaos, Dante saw his chance to take the throne by "accident."
"No!" Lisa screamed, but her voice was drowned out by a nearby explosion.
She looked down and saw a discarded pistol on the ground near her feet likely dropped by the man Silvio had just killed. Her hands shook. She had never held a gun in her life; she hated violence and the blood that seemed to follow these men like a shadow. But she looked at Silvio’s back, and then at Dante’s cold, calculating eyes.
She picked up the cold metal. It was heavier than she expected. She didn't think about the recoil or the noise. She thought about the man who had tucked her in when she had nightmares. She thought about the man who had looked at her sonogram and felt his heart break.
Bang.
The gun kicked back, nearly bruising her wrist. The bullet didn't hit Dante, but it struck the tree inches from his head. He yelped, spinning around in surprise. That split second was all Silvio needed.
Silvio lunged, tackling Dante to the ground. They became a blur of fists and snarls. While they fought, the mercenaries closed in.
"Silvio, look out!" Lisa cried again.
A mercenary stepped into the clearing, aiming at the two brothers. Lisa didn't hesitate this time. She squeezed the trigger again, the roar of the gun filling her ears. The man slumped over. She had killed for him. She had stained her soul to keep his beating.
The Moretti reinforcements finally broke through the line, sweeping the woods with fire and steel. The mercenaries retreated into the darkness, leaving behind the scent of cordite and death.
Silvio stood up, his face covered in blood and dirt. He left Dante groveling on the ground, his nose broken and his spirit shattered. Silvio didn't even look at his brother; he walked straight to the hollow log.
He reached in and pulled Lisa out. He didn't yell. He didn't ask if she was okay. He simply gathered her into his arms and held her so tight she could barely breathe. He was shaking the Great Don Moretti was trembling.
His breath came out in rough, uneven bursts against her hair, as if he was fighting to stay standing. One hand cradled the back of her head, shielding her from the world he ruled so mercilessly. Lisa felt his heart pounding, wild and frantic, nothing like the man everyone feared. For a moment, titles and power meant nothing. There was only relief, raw and overwhelming, and the quiet terror of almost losing her.
"You shot him," Silvio whispered into her hair, his voice thick with an emotion she couldn't name. "You protected me."
"I couldn't let them take you," she sobbed, dropping the gun into the dirt as if it were a poisonous snake. "I couldn't."
He pulled back, his hands cupping her face. He didn't care about the guards watching or the brother he had just beaten. He kissed her with a raw, desperate hunger, his mouth tasting of copper and salt. It was a kiss of life, a kiss that accepted her sacrifice and offered his own in return.
"You're mine," he rasped against her lips. "Truly mine now. Not by debt. Not by blood."
He picked her up, cradling her against his chest as he turned away from the carnage. As he carried her back toward the lights of the estate, Lisa looked back at Dante, who was being dragged away in chains.
The secret was out. The war had cost her her innocence. But as Silvio pressed a kiss to her temple, she realized that in the middle of the crossfire, she hadn't just saved his life. She had found a reason to fight for her own.