Sharon
Sharon backed up against the wall as she heard the voices on the other side of the door. Her heart was racing. She had cried out when she’d heard the gunshots, worried about Vittorio and if he was going to survive.
If he didn’t, she didn’t know what she would do.
But the gunfire had died away and, for a while, she thought that no one was out there. She waited for someone to open the door and let her out. Now, however, she could feel the danger on the other side of the door. The door lock whirled, and she crouched by the bag, rifling through it to find a weapon, anything she could use to defend herself. There was no doubt in her mind that Vittorio was not on the other side of that door.
Her hands brushed across something sharp and Sharon pulled it out. It was a retractable knife, like the ones used to open boxes. Quickly, she pushed the blade all the way up and tucked it into her palm as the door started to open.
She was right. It was not Vittorio coming to rescue her.
“Come on out,” Rocco Anafesto called from the opening. “I know you are in here. Clever, Cortarini, hiding her in here.”
Vittorio was still alive.
Relief momentarily flooded Sharon’s body as two men entered the space, their leering grins making her feel sick to her stomach.
“Come on slut,” one of them said, reaching for her arm and pulling her roughly to her feet. “The boss wants to see you.”
“No,” Sharon shouted as his fingers dug into the skin on her upper arm, pulling her across the floor.
He ignored her and soon Sharon was in the bedroom once more, a small cry escaping her mouth as her eyes laid on Vittorio. He looked nothing like the cocky mob boss that had kissed her so tenderly earlier.
In his place was a lump of blood, his face swollen behind recognition.
“Come on,” Rocco said, motioning to his men. “Let’s go back into the living room. There’s more room in there anyway.”
Sharon was dragged down the hall by her hair, her scalp on fire as she fought to get out of the strong hold they had her in, tears in her eyes. They were going to kill them both, though Vittorio looked almost there. Her poor, proud mafia man. He had done so much to protect her.
She was thrown on the floor not far from Vittorio, against the back of the couch. Rocco came into her vision.
“Well slut,” he said, a leer on his face. “Looks like you wormed your way into Contarini’s life and he might actually care for you. Too bad. If only you had come to be with me, I would have already turned you loose for the streets to deal with you.”
“Please,” Vittorio rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. “Do whatever you want to me but leave her alone.”
Rocco laughed.
“Are you fucking serious? You want me to leave her alone? Who says you are in any position to bargain?”
Vittorio licked his lips and Sharon’s heart broke as blood dribbled out of his mouth. A sob escaped her.
“I’ll give you anything.”
Rocco tsked and the man beside Vittorio kicked him hard.
“Stop!” Sharon cried out. “Please! Haven’t you done enough?”
“Not nearly enough,” Rocco sneered, looking down at her. “And I’m gonna break him before I kill him, starting with you.”
Sharon tried to back up, but the couch was already at her back as Rocco reached for her, dragging her near Vittorio.
“You are gonna watch me fuck your girl,” he said harshly as his men came to hold Sharon down. “And I hope to God her screams follow you to hell.”
Sharon’s heart stopped as she was spread eagled. Rocco leered over her as he ran a hand down her body, gripping the waistband of her shorts.
“We already know you don’t have any panties on.”
Her eyes found Vittorio, but he was looking away, his head hanging, and she realized there was nothing that he could do.
“Please,” she said as Rocco tugged on her shorts. “Let me take them off.”
Rocco licked his lips, nodding to the men who were holding her down.
“Release her hands, she can’t do anything anyway.”
Sharon exhaled as they did so, waiting until Rocco was fumbling with his pants before she struck. She caught his hands with the razor blade. He screamed and fell back as gunfire erupted around her.
Suddenly, a large body covered hers and she screamed before she realized Vittorio had somehow launched himself to cover her from the gunfire.
But, as soon as it started, it was over. Vittorio’s body sagged against hers and she felt the warm stickiness of his blood seeping into her clothes.
“Vittorio,” she whispered, her hands touching the face that was resting against her chest. “Oh god, please don’t be dead.”
“N-not yet,” he groaned, before he was lifted off her and Marcello filled her vision.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said shakily, pulling herself to a sitting position. The air was heavy with blood and gunfire and she tried not to look at the bloody bodies that seemed to fill the living room. “Vittorio.”
Marcello stopped her before she could go over to him.
“He’s in a bad way.”
“I don’t care!” she shouted, pushing at his shoulders and moving him out of her way.
Sharon hurried to Vittorio’s side and knelt beside him. He seemed to be bleeding everywhere all at once. She was unsure what to do. The tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Help him.”
A heavy hand landed on her shoulder, comforting her.
“We will.”
Sharon turned to Marcello and leaned against him, her tears wetting his shirt. She couldn’t lose Vittorio now, not when they had just found each other again.