God Of Vengeance (Kings Of Mafia)

While Martha carries the clothes between my old suite and Damiano’s room, Aunt Greta helps me pack everything into my side of the closet.

Aunt Aida’s sitting on a chair we brought into the room for her, keeping us company.

“Did you enjoy the wedding before Damiano dragged you away?” Aunt Aida asks.

“Yes.” I let out a chuckle. “Thank you for everything you did to make it a perfect wedding, Aunt Greta.”

“You’re welcome, cara.”

“Oh, I just remembered,” Aunt Aida says. “You can call me mamma or mom. Whichever you prefer.”

I stop what I’m doing and drop the hanger on the floor.

“Really?”

When she nods, I rush to her, and leaning down, I wrap her up in a hug. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me,” she chuckles as she pats my back. “We’re family now.”

Letting go of her, I get back to work.

Damiano comes into the closet, then glances over the clothes. “Is it all going to fit?”

“Yes.” I shoot him a smile. “I’ll make it fit.”

“You can always leave your summer clothes in the other bedroom and just change it every season,” Aunt Greta mentions.

“That’s too much work,” I reply.

Damiano’s phone starts ringing, and I watch as he takes the call.

“What?” As he listens to whatever the other person is saying, a dark frown forms on his forehead. “I’m on my way.”

My shoulders sag, and when he ends the call, he says, “I have to go to Manhattan. I’ll try not to be long.”

I walk to him, and wrapping my hand around the back of his neck, I lift myself on my tiptoes. I press a kiss to his mouth. “Be careful.”

“I will.” He gives me another kiss then pulls away to press a kiss to Mamma’s temple. “Have fun while I’m gone.”

“Fun?” Aunt Greta huffs. “We’re working hard, and he calls it fun.”

Laughing, we continue to work, and when I hear the helicopter take off, I hope the call wasn’t anything too serious.

“I need a break,” Aunt Greta says thirty minutes later. “Let’s have some tea before round two.”

“It’s almost done. Martha and I can finish. Go rest.”

“You sure?” she asks while helping Mamma to her feet.

“Yes. I’ll be done in a few minutes.”

Martha comes in, and when she sees Mamma and Aunt Greta leave, she says, “Go with them, Mrs. Falco. You’ve done more than enough.”

Mrs. Falco. Sigh.

Tired, I don’t put up a fight and give her a grateful smile. “Thank you, Martha.”

I walk out of the walk-in closet and leave the suite. I take the stairs down to the first floor, and as I step into the foyer, there’s a loud explosion, and the entire mansion shudders.

“Dio!” I scream with fright, pins and needles spreading over my body from shock. “What the hell was that?”

There’s another loud explosion that’s followed by gunfire erupting outside.

Shit!

My mind is still racing to catch up to what’s happening as I run to the sitting room. Debris starts to fall around me like missiles aiming to kill me.

“Mamma!” I scream, my heart threatening to pound right out of my chest.

“Gabriella!” Gerardo shouts from the kitchen. “We’re here.”

I change direction and run toward the kitchen, and as I rush inside, the mansion groans before there are loud crashing sounds. It sounds like it’s collapsing on top of us.

“Caro Dio,” Mamma cries. “We need to call Damiano.”

Gerardo grabs my hand and yanks me down beside the island.

“Stay down,” he orders, his breaths bursting over his lips.

Seeing Mamma and Aunt Greta, I crawl closer to them and wrap my arm around Mamma.

“We have to call Damiano,” she cries again.

My breaths rush over my lips as I say, “I don’t have my phone. It’s up in the bedroom.”

“My phone is charging,” Gerardo spits out.

The gunfire grows louder, and terrified of what might happen, I pull Mamma to her feet. “Come.”

“Where are you going?” Gerardo snaps from where he’s standing guard by the doorway.

“I’m finding a hiding place!” I hiss at him.

I open the pantry door and shove Mamma inside. “Sit down and make yourself as small as possible,” I order before I pull boxes of coffee and sugar in front of her.

Luckily, we buy enough supplies to last us a couple of months, and I’m able to cover her partially.

“Stay here until one of us comes for you,” I order before shutting the door.

As I take a step away from it, Gerardo starts to fire one bullet after the other.

“Out the back door!” our guard shouts, panic lacing his words. “Get to the armory and lock yourselves in the building.”

“Caro Dio!” Aunt Greta sobs.

Just as she runs to me, Gerardo staggers back as bullets slam into him, and a second later, men pour into the kitchen.

Not thinking, I dive for Gerardo’s gun as it skids across the floor, and as I lift my arms to fire the weapon, horror crashes through me as I see a bullet hit Aunt Greta in the chest.

“Noooooo!” I let out an agonizing scream, pulling the trigger until the gun clicks in my hand. I manage to hit two attackers, but there are too many.

A shocked silence buzzes in my ears as I try to make sense of what’s happening. It’s all too sudden, and I struggle to cope.

“Is that the fucking mother?” One of the men asks.

“The mother is blind,” another replies.

I scramble to my feet and run to Aunt Greta. Pulling her into my arms, I press my hand to the wound.

As if it will help.

An intense feeling of acceptance spreads through my body as I look into Aunt Greta’s eyes.

At least I got to experience some happiness before I die.

She lifts her hand to my cheek. “Tell Carlo I love him. It was an honor being his mother.”

“I will,” I lie while waiting for the bullets to hit me.

“Such a good girl,” she gasps. “Love you.”

My voice is thick with sorrow as I say, “I love you too.”

I’m grabbed, and as they haul me away from Aunt Greta, she stretches her arm out to me as she gasps for air.

“No!” I cry, and I manage to yank free.

Instead of bullets riddling my body, I’m grabbed again. When I’m dragged out of the kitchen, I start to fight with all my strength, hitting, scratching, and kicking until I’m thrown onto the floor in the foyer.

“Fucking bitch,” a man growls before a gun is pressed to my head. “Where is Mrs. Falco?” he demands, his tone aggressive.

My heart slams against my ribs, and I don’t know where the strength comes from, but I glare at the man as I bite the words out, “You’re looking at her.” Holding my left hand up, I say, “I’m Mrs. Falco.”

I know they’re either going to take me or kill me right here, but hopefully, they won’t look for Mamma.

One of the other men talks into a radio, “We have a young woman claiming to be Mrs. Falco.”

‘What does she look like?’ I hear a familiar voice, but I can’t place where I know it from.

His eyes roam over me. “Light brown hair. Pretty.”

‘Bring her.’

I’m hauled to my feet, and the gun remains trained on my head.

“What about the mother?” the one in charge asks.

‘We have the wife. She’ll do.’

If I let them take me, they might do much worse things to me.

With panic and fear swirling in my chest, I swing around, and my fist connects with the bastard behind me. I break out into a run toward the sunroom, but debris blocks my way, so I dart into Damiano’s private sitting room.

Wildly, I glance around, but with no way of escaping, I turn to face the men as they follow me into the room.

The one who was talking on the radio stalks right at me, and when I try to put up a fight, he slams something hard against my head, and everything grows dark.