When She Loves (The Fallen, #4)(83)

“Where is she?” I shout.

Nero points to the left, and that’s when I find her.

Cleo’s huddled on the ground by a knocked over chair, someone’s jacket wrapped around her. She’s staring at the ground, eyes wide, like she’s in shock.

De Rossi’s guy, Giorgio, is kneeling beside her, saying something in a low tone.

My lungs expand.

She’s alive. She’s safe.

Slowly, she lifts her face, and her gaze meets mine. A fracture appears inside my chest at how vulnerable she looks. I rush over to her, fall to my knees beside her, and pull her into my arms.

She makes a low sob. “Rafe.”

“Tesoro. Are you hurt?” I can hardly recognize my own voice.

“No.” She shakes her head, holding me tightly to her. “I’m okay. Is my dad…”

“Dead.” Or he’s well on his way there. “He’ll never harm you again.”

She sobs again, and I rock her in my arms. My throat tightens, and everything feels so overwhelming and so fucking raw that a new wave of panic claws up my chest.

The memory of my mother’s pained screams pierce through my head. I squeeze my eyes shut for a long moment and then open them.

I can hear Sandro and the other guy still shouting at each other, but Nero is here now. He’s standing just a few feet away with Giorgio.

They’re both staring at me with strange expressions on their faces. Like they don’t know who they’re looking at. Like the Rafaele they know is gone, and in his place is another man. A man who’s allowed himself to be consumed with fear. A man who’s been brought to his knees. A man who’s weak.

A don must never look weak.

What’s happened to me?

What the fuck am I doing?

Throwing away my reputation, the one I’ve spent a lifetime building, right here on this dirty fucking warehouse floor?

I let go of Cleo and get to my feet. I am not that man. I cannot be that man, or everything I have will be lost.

“Are Garzolo’s men all dead?” I ask Nero.

“Yeah,” my consigliere says. He wipes his palm over his mouth. “But we have a problem.”

“What happened?”

The dark-haired Ferraro who was arguing with Sandro appears in front of me and shoves against my chest. “This fucking fool,” he shouts, pointing at Nero, “shot Michael. My cousin. The don’s nephew. Do you fucking idiots understand what you’ve done?”

Fucking fuck. “Nero, is that true?”

Nero gives me a guilt-ridden look. “It was an accident.”

The guy sneers. “You better pray he makes it.”

I put a hand on his shoulder. “Calm down. What’s your name?”

“Emanuele.”

“Where is your cousin?”

He jerks his head in the direction of a man lying on the ground. Tiny and Sandro are beside him, pressing rags to what looks like a gunshot wound to his gut.

“I didn’t know they were coming,” Nero says, his voice hoarse. “I thought he was one of Garzolo’s men, and I just fucking shot him. It was chaos. I was trying to get to her.”

Fuck. It’s my fault. I never warned him the Ferraros were coming.

“We already called Doc,” Sandro says. “He’s on his way.”

I walk over to where the man is lying on the ground. The guy’s pulse is still there, but weak. He’s bleeding out.

Nero kneels beside me. “Rafe, what were the Ferraros doing here?”

“I called them. Asked them to help.”

“Why would you do that? I had enough men.”

I open my mouth and then shut it. There’s no good answer. I panicked and made a mistake. A big one. If Michael dies, there will be a war.

I stand up and take a step backward. Everything is falling apart. How is it possible that in less than an hour, I’ve lost control over everything? We didn’t even need Ferraro’s men. Nero had it covered. Why did I think it was a good idea to involve them in this?

No, I wasn’t thinking at all. I was desperate to save Cleo.

I didn’t even consider the potential consequences of my rash decision. I let my emotions take control of me.

Bile rises up my throat. Nero was right after all. She did manage to get under my skin.

She is my living, breathing weakness.

Tires screeching outside. Everyone pulls out their guns, but it’s just Doc. He runs through the entrance of the warehouse, his medical bag in hand.

“Over here,” Nero shouts.

While the doc’s checking Michael out, I walk back to Cleo. She’s still on the ground, watching everything with wide tear-stained eyes, but she’s visibly calmer. I offer her a hand to help her up, but there’s this angry buzz beneath my skin.

“Tell me what happened. Start at the beginning.”

She wraps her arms around herself. “I got a text from Vale saying Gemma was hurt and that she’d pick me up from work.”

Giorgio clears his throat. “I took a look at her phone. Garzolo used Valentina’s old US phone.”

I want to laugh. So fucking obvious. Garzolo didn’t have to try very hard at all. He’d waited for the best opportunity, and it presented itself when Cleo’s sisters came to town.

How could she have fallen for it?