An explosion sounded, blasting splinters of wood and fence all around us. I shoved Marcella down and shielded her with my body. My back burned but I didn’t move until a new wave of screams and shots rang out. The sound of shotguns made my head swivel up. As I’d feared, Earl and several bikers stormed out of the clubhouse and in the direction of the kennels.
I jerked Marcella up onto her feet. She, too, had seen the bikers heading our way. I dragged her away but running toward the fence line where the majority of the fighting was happening posed the risk of being hit by a bullet from either side. Vitiello was on his way, I only needed to make sure Marcella stayed alive until then. Nothing else mattered.
I stormed to the most unlikely place, to the clubhouse. As expected, it was empty except for one terrified looking prospect. He fumbled with his gun but didn’t manage to loosen the safety pin. I released Marcella’s hand and lunged at him, ripping the gun out of his hand before I hit him over the head with the barrel. I grabbed another gun and his knife, then I dragged Marcella behind the bar. It had been enforced with wooden boards and could hold off a few bullets. Of course, the shotguns would eventually tear through it, but I had to trust that Vitiello would find us.
The shooting and screaming came closer. It sounded as if World War III had broken out. Marcella peered at me with wide eyes, panting softly.
“Everything will be okay. Your father will be here any moment and I’ll keep you safe until then.” And then all hell broke loose around us. The shelf behind us exploded. Alcohol and glass shards catapulted our way. My back lit up with new pain, but I only focused on Marcella who cowered in front of me. I touched her cheek briefly, wanting to burn the image of her face into my mind so I could recall it in my last moments.
Steps rang out and a door was thrown shut. “Barricade the door!” Earl screamed and I held my breath, realizing he was in the house and judging from the myriad of voices several men were with him. Maddox and I were trapped.
“Earl!” Dad roared. “I give you five seconds to hand over my daughter before I tear down the fucking house and chop you and your fucking family into pieces.”
My heart swelled with relief hearing Dad’s voice.
“Fuck you! I’ll send her head out to you, that’s all you get. We’ll keep her cold pussy to keep us entertained.”
Maddox’s muscles tautened as he raised the guns. “Stay down,” he mouthed.
Another explosion sounded and splinters flew through the room. A man staggered toward us, probably to seek cover. “Prez, they are—”
Maddox shot him in the head before he could finish the sentence and all hell broke loose. My ears rang from the gunfire. Maddox jumped up, raising his guns. “Earl, don’t be stupid. Everyone’s going to die because of your ego.” Maddox ducked and a bullet burst through another of the liquor bottles.
“Damn dogs, I’ll drown them all.”
“For fuck’s sake! Be reasonable and hand Marcella over!”
More gunfire sounded followed by the sound of breaking wood. A moment later something hit the ground with a loud bang.
“Door down!” someone yelled.
Maddox jerked to his feet when Gunnar showed up, holding a knife in his hands. They began grappling. It was obvious that Maddox didn’t want to kill the older man. Eventually he managed to land a hard hit to the man’s temple. Gunnar crumpled on the floor and didn’t stir again.
The next biker who lunged at Maddox wasn’t as lucky. Maddox impaled his knife in the guy’s chest.
I began shaking, my ears ringing from the gunfire and wounded men screaming in pain. Maybe I’d die right in front of Dad.
Blood splatters covered the wooden boards and the walls. Maddox stepped out from the cover and fired. I crawled forward, peering out from behind the bar. Brutal carnage reigned around me. Blood and body parts lay on the ground.
And amid it all stood Dad, Matteo and Amo and several Famiglia soldiers, right before the front door while Earl and his men hid behind the overturned pool table. It took me a moment to recognize Amo. His eyes were wild and in his right hand, he held an ax, covered in blood and flesh. I didn’t know how many of the savagely killed bikers were his fault. This wasn’t the Amo I remembered.
The brother I’d left behind had seen fights as a fun game. Becoming a Capo had been a distant goal, one he hadn’t been prepared for yet. He’d been a cocky, thrill-seeking boy who liked to impress girls with his future title and looks. His induction had been proforma. Up until this point, Dad had kept him away from the worst of the business by Mom’s request. Amo had always had a penchant for violence. It ran in his blood, like it ran in mine, albeit not as strong. But it had lain dormant. Now as I saw his blood sprinkled face and the raw hunger for revenge in his eyes, matching Dad’s, I realized his true nature had been awakened.