Elena Vitiello POV:
The massive black bore of the Desert Eagle pointed directly between Luca's eyes. The air in the hospital room turned to solid ice.
Luca's knees buckled instantly. He dropped heavily onto the floor, his kneecaps slamming into the shards of a broken water glass that had shattered during the breach. Blood immediately soaked through his wet trousers, but he didn't even flinch.
Matteo let out a pathetic whimper and flattened his entire body against the cold linoleum tiles, shaking so hard his teeth chattered.
"You abandoned your post," my father roared, his voice shaking the medical equipment. "You let the heir to this family get maimed, and then you used your clearance to smuggle the assassin out of my territory!"
Luca raised his shaking hands, palms out. "Boss, please! Sofia isn't an assassin! It was just an accident, the recoil was—"
My father stepped forward and swung his arm in a brutal arc. The heavy steel grip of the Desert Eagle smashed into the side of Luca's face.
The sickening crack of bone echoed in the room. Luca was thrown sideways, spitting a mouthful of dark blood and two shattered teeth onto the floor. He groaned, clutching his face, completely silenced by the violence.
"Disarm them," my father ordered, his voice devoid of any mercy.
Two high-ranking enforcers stepped forward. They didn't ask. They roughly grabbed Luca and Matteo, ripping the 9mm sidearms from their holsters and yanking the tactical knives from their belts. The weapons clattered into a pile on the floor.
"Strip their family badges," my father commanded.
The enforcers grabbed the lapels of their ruined suit jackets. With a violent jerk, they ripped off the heavy black-and-gold pins that marked them as Lieutenants in the Chicago Outfit. The sound of tearing fabric was loud and final. It was the death knell of their status.
"You are stripped of all rank," my father growled, looking down at them. "You are demoted to bottom-tier dock laborers. You are banned from stepping foot on estate grounds for the rest of your miserable lives."
Luca's head snapped up. Blood dripped from his chin. When he heard the word "laborers," pure, unadulterated terror flooded his eyes. He had finally realized what he had thrown away.
My father turned to his deputy standing by the door. "Issue a Kill Order on the girl. I want her head in a box by sunrise."
Suddenly, chaos erupted in the hallway. The sounds of scuffling and shouting guards grew louder.
Sofia burst through the doorway, screaming hysterically. Her hair was a tangled mess, her makeup smeared down her face. She had somehow bypassed the outer perimeter, driven by sheer, animalistic panic.
She saw my father standing there with the massive handgun. She let out a piercing shriek and scrambled across the floor, diving behind Luca's bleeding body to use him as a human shield.
Her hands were shaking violently. Clutched in her right fist was a tiny, cheap fruit knife used for peeling apples.
"I know I was wrong!" Sofia screamed at my father, tears streaming down her face. "I'm here to pay my debt! A life for a life!"
I lay completely still against the hospital pillows. I looked at the tiny knife in her hand. The absolute absurdity of the situation washed over me.
Sofia gritted her teeth, squeezed her eyes shut, and dragged the blade across her own left forearm.
She was so terrified of pain that she didn't even press down. The blade barely broke the top layer of skin, leaving a faint white scratch that didn't even bleed.
The entire hospital room fell dead silent.
Even my father lowered his gun an inch, his face twisting in complete confusion at the sheer stupidity of the display.
I looked at the pathetic little white line on her arm. Then, I looked down at my own chest, where a massive patch of my skin had been burned to a crisp, smelling of charred flesh.
A laugh started deep in my chest. It bubbled up my throat until I threw my head back and laughed out loud.
The movement pulled violently at my torn, burned muscles. My vision swam with white-hot pain, and the color drained from my face, but I couldn't stop laughing. The sound was hollow, dark, and dripping with murderous intent.
Sofia peeked out from behind Luca. She held up her barely-scratched arm, her voice trembling with desperate hope. "Did... did I pay it back?"
My father's face contorted with absolute disgust. He raised the Desert Eagle, leveling the sights directly at Sofia's face, ready to blow her head off and end the insult.
Luca screamed. He threw his arms wide, wrapping his body around Sofia, offering his own back to the bullet.
"Stop," I said, my voice cutting through the room like a razor blade.
My father paused, his finger tight on the trigger.
I stopped laughing. I stared at Sofia, my eyes burning with a cold, relentless fire.
"Keep her," I ordered, my voice dead. "A bullet through the brain is too easy. I want to watch her rot in the gutter with absolutely nothing."
I leaned back against the pillows, looking at the two trembling figures, my voice as soft as a demon's whisper: "You can spend the rest of your lives paying me back from hell."
