TW: Violence and gore (I think)

Elio's tense the entire ride from Paris to Palermo. He briefly tells me Fabris' men are raiding his storages across the city. Although, the biggest spot containing a huge chunk of their shipment set to sail in two days, has attracted more attention.

The fight between them has turned so intense it piqued the official's notice, too. Though Elio might have entire Palermo's police wrapped around his fingers, some lines must never be crossed. The conflict's huge enough, it has drawn public notice too.

Their hands are pretty much tied.

In Palermo, only one car awaits us, unlike the usual line of black jeeps.

His driver speeds down the lanes. Another call from Pietro informs him the situation's gotten worse. Apparently, someone disclosed to the Federal forces the outlaw they're in search of is hiding there.

In short, not only Palermo's police are there but also the agents from the States, and international defense forces are present too.

A literal chaotic bloodbath.

One that I have no interest in being anywhere near it, but Elio refuses to send me to his place by taxi, claiming it's not safe. Ever since this asshole kidnapped me, the word safe has pretty much lost its meaning.

It's crazy how matters can change within a few hours. It doesn't feel like about three-four hours ago, we were in Paris, minutes away from sleeping together... now we're going headfirst into a modern-day battlefield.

Just perfect.

For most of the time, Elio's on his phone, barking orders in Italian or Russian.

I should've asked him to list down a few common, useful, Russian words too... maybe next time. If I get out of this one alive.

I'm really holding Elio up to his words that this car's bulletproof.

Eventually, the driver slows down, and even though we're still a few miles away, the sound of gunshots reverberating through the place is evident.

A chill runs down my spine. Anxiously I glance at Elio.

I'll be staying in the car—I think—but he won't... what if he—No.

Nothing will happen to him. This is his life, he knows what he's doing; he's probably been in the middle of these conflicts for the bigger part of his life. He can handle himself.

I nod to myself, yet my fingers fidget with my necklace's pendant as the car draws closer.

My heartbeat steadily increases. I don't want to die like this... neither do I want the asshole to die.

I swallow my frustrated groan. I'm not supposed to give a damn about a goddamn mafioso.

If out there wasn't a mess, I might've dared to entertain the idea of getting the hell out of Italy with one of the agents and asking for protection, but now's definitely not the time or place. I might even end up getting killed in the process.

I have mafias to take down, I can't die now.

The piercing sound of the firearms grows louder and the car halts behind the first gigantic blue container; the driver kills the engine. Red, blue, and white containers have been aligned in endless rows.

Elio slips on his gloves and checks his Beretta one last time before climbing out of the car. "Stay here, unless you see something coming toward you. If it's cars from behind, they're not my men; get out of the car. Keep your Beretta ready and close. There's a burner under the seat, it has my number and Pietro's. If anything happens, you call us instantly, okay?"

I nod and he shuts the door. The driver follows him, his pistol ready as he scans the area while tailing Elio.

The view before me is serene, the calm Tyrrhenian sea—or that's what I recall the name to be from seeing the maps sometimes Marco works on. The sound of the soft waves is nowhere near enough to drown out the rippling gunshots.

My leg bounces. For safety measures, I fish out the burner from under the driver's seat and clutch it in one hand as I tightly hold on to my Beretta with the other.

Minutes trail by agonizingly slowly.

Just as I get used to the noise and my body gradually relaxes, through the rear-view mirror, I glimpse a black jeep heading down toward me.

My heart leaps to my throat, and a tremor crawls down my body. The jeep keeps driving closer and closer and though Elio said to abandon the car; I doubt I'll be able to make it far without coming to their notice.

Instead, I slide off the seat and crouch down inside the car, creeping to the other side to stay hidden from the view. My back faces the little space between the passenger's seat and the door.

The jeep's tires crush the gravel as it passes Elio's car but to my horror, it halts nearby.

I curse under my breath and tighten my grip on the Beretta, hoping today won't be the day I'll have to kill for survival.

Doors slam shut and voices of men speaking Russian pique my interest... maybe they're Elio's men?

Yet, I don't dare to move, until, from the narrow view at my disposal from the floor of the car, I glimpse two of them walking to the container placed across the car. They pull out one round object.

They attach it to the container and I spot the other men who got off the car doing the same with the other containers. Realization hits me like a goddamn plane and I cover my mouth from horror.

It doesn't even take a minute for my suspicions to be confirmed. Red digital numbers light up on the devices.

Bombs!

I turn on the phone and call the first number, not taking my eyes off the men as they continue to attach as many bombs to as many containers —full of explosives— as they can, without getting close to the fight scene.

"Pronto," Pietro's harsh voice vibrates the speaker.

I grip the phone tighter. "Pietro, it's me, Cerise," I whisper, not daring to raise my voice for fear of one of them hearing me. "A few men just came, they're attaching bombs to the containers."

"Che cosa!" he shouts. Distant gunshots are being fired from his end of the line.

The men hurry back to the jeep, they climb up and make a sharp turn, driving away.

"They were Russian, they've bombed the place, and they just drove off. We need to evacuate right now!"

"Cazzo," he mutters. "Time?"

"I-I don't know, let me check." Holding the phone, I put the Beretta on the seat of the car and climb out. My body buzzes with adrenaline as I sprint to the container across the car and read the timer. "Fifteen minutes."

"Cazzo!" he yells.

"I'll inform Elio, and you tell the others, okay?"

"Sì, sì."

I hang up and call the only other number. With jittering nerves, I rush back to the car and stand next to its open door as I shove my fingers through my hair and wait for Elio to answer.

On the fifth ring, he does. "Pron-" Before he gets to say the word, I start.

"Elio, it's me."

A loud gunshot reverberates from his end and I wince. "Did something happen to you? Are you hurt?" he urgently asks. "Do you need hel-"

"The place is loaded with bombs."

"What!"

"A couple of men just came and did it right now. We have less than fifteen minutes-"

"Okay, alright, grab the car and get the hell out right now."

"No!"

"There's a spare key in the dashboard-"

"Elio-" I interject but he again ignores me.

"Don't argue with me! Do as I'm telling you."

I'm about to ask what about him, how he'll get out but the rear tire of the car blasts. I let out a startled scream as I jump back. The phone slips from my hand and crashes to the ground.

Frantically I look at the direction the bullet came from, spotting a sniper at the far end of the area, inside the cabin of the tower crane.

My eyes widen with horror as I retreat an unsteady step. I turn and flee, heading right towards the thickest of the fight. My shoes slap the concrete hard and fast, making my feet burn. Blood rushes in my ear. Bullets fly past me.

I don't know where I'm going, or to who. All I know is, I want to get the hell away from the sniper. I twist abruptly after rushing past five aisles of containers, and go down three more rounds, protected by the walls of the boxes on either side of me, and halt.

Wheezing, I gape at the sight before me. On the pathway, where the shipments are supposed to be boarded onto the ships, cars have been abandoned. Three men lay dead on the ground at the other end of the container.

With trembling legs, I cross the length, keeping one hand on the metallic wall.

I count the minutes in my head, going backward from the tenth minute.

I peek over and gasp. Men and women, hide behind walls, cars, and anything that offers protection, as they lean over and shoot one another.

A flurry of people dressed in blue uniforms against men wearing black from head to toe.

Too many people lay dead. Smoke rises from a cabin at the far end. Gunshots echo and reverberate in every corner.

The sight swims before my eyes before I gather my wits and slowly walk over to the ones laying on the floor. I need to find Elio. I don't trust Pietro enough in this situation. He can push me in front of a bullet for all I know.

The thickest of the fight's about a hundred yards away from me.

As I hit the eighth minute in my mind, I pick my pace and scan every corner as I pass in hopes of finding Elio.

I have less than seven minutes to find Elio and get the hell out.

The thought itself is enough to push me spiraling into a panic attack.

Every few feet, I hide behind a car, survey the area to ensure no bullets are being shot in the direction I'm moving.

My heart thunders, pounding on my temples and in my ears, drowning out most of the noise.

Five minutes.

I hide behind a black abandoned car, reaching the edge of the fight. A bullet hits the car and my breath hitches. I squeeze my eyes shut as my ears ring.

Everyone is shooting everyone. It's pure chaos.

Blood tints the paved ground. The stench mixes with the sea's scent and burns my nostrils.

Three cabins stand at the far end, one of their glasses shatters. A gut feeling soars in me that Elio's in one of those cabins. But to get there I have to cross through the middle of the fight. I curse under my breath and scan the place.

A gun is fired behind me and someone hits the ground with a sickening thud.

Hurriedly, I round the car and drag myself to my full height.

My gaze darts from one place to another, scanning every face until I stop dead in my tracks. The timer in my head, ticking off the seconds, halts.

My eyes widen as I stare in disbelief.

Blue shirt with a bulletproof vest tied around her abdomen, her black hair pinned atop her head, and her dark skin glistening with sweat under the warm sun as she handles the gun expertly and shoots someone.

Ruby!

I can't believe my eyes. Not a beat later she turns. Her face mirrors my emotions. Shocked, Surprised. And at last, happy!

Happy out of my fucking mind! I hadn't realized how much I missed her until seeing her.

"Ruby!" I shout with a laugh. Without a care in the world, I jump over the dead body, running in her direction.

"Cerise!" she exclaims, beaming as she dodges someone's punch and makes her way to me.

Slowly, I put the pieces together. She must've been assigned to this project.

I told the idiot not to take any risky missions. But damn her, she never listens to me.

Less than ten feet away from her, she laughs, "Bitch, I missed you! But what the hell are you doing here!"

Just as I'm about to answer, a sharp pain singes my arm and Ruby's eyes widen as the force makes me stumble.

"Cerise!" she screams.

Everything happens too fast.

Ruby's mouth opens, but before a word comes out, a bullet collides with the crook of her neck. Blood sputters out. The red liquid streams down her clothes.

Someone yells my name, yanking me away as another bullet pierces Ruby's forehead as she hits the ground.

Ruby's face sticks to my mind, her mouth agape, as though surprised.

A pair of hands pull me to the side. My back presses against something hard. My face is touched, indistinctly I hear my name, but it's like my head's underwater, no sound reaches me.

I can't fucking breathe.

Ruby! Oh my God, Ruby!

Blindly, I try to push aside whatever that's holding me back. I need to get to her. She needs help.

My face's cupped, forcing me to see what—no, who's in front of me.

"Cerise," Elio's anxious voice and pale face finally come into my focus.

I rapidly blink, my mind still dazed.

"We need to get out." His eyes dart to my arm. "I need to get you to the doctor. Cerise-"

I shake my head. "No." Moving my arm hurts, but I push aside his hands and try to get away from him.

"Cerise-"

"No, Ruby needs me." I try to hurry past him.

"Ruby?" He frowns with confusion before recognition sparks up in his features, which quickly turns to horror.

"Let me go!" I shriek, tears burning my eyes, blurring my vision, as I struggle against his tightening hold on me, keeping me in place and on my feet. "She's hurt, let me go!" I scream.

He grips my arms. "There's nothing you can do, Cerise. She's gone. We have to go now!"

"No!" I screech, failing at shoving him away.

"Cerise, stop, please." He starts pulling me away. Further in between the two aligned containers.

I cry and try to free myself from his hold but it's useless, no matter how hard I thrash against his firm grip, it never loosens. Black dots sprinkle across my vision as I struggle harder, bawling incoherent words.

My knees give out and Elio holds me upright. "She needs me! She's alive!" I scream, but barely hear my own voice as air wheezes in and out of me in uncontrolled sharp breaths.

The black dots grow in size and number as my head spins until dark consumes me.

❈ ☯︎ ❈

Yeah... So Ruby got killed... any guesses or speculations around her death? Any thoughts what's going to happen now? I hope you don't hate the chapter, it was hard as hell to write :") vote if you enjoyed and comment your thoughts =)

Today, 20th March (21st March in Persian calender) is the Iranian New Year, so happy Nowruz! Yes, I'm from Iran, and I feel like I have a responsibility of a sort for saying this :") I mean it's the least I can do. We're officially entering spring ^.^ so I hope you guys have a lovely spring.

Take this as sisterly advice, from a gal to gal, I get it, we all love reading about possessive men in stories, but please, don't normalize it for yourself. It's dangerous. I don't know if you're aware of the hell that went down in Iran, to put it simply, in the name of protecting and being unnecessarily possessive they took all the rights women in Iran had, to the point where they feel entitled to tell us what not to wear and dictate what we can wear.

My bella readers, know your rights. Be conscious of all the things you deserve and don't let anyone, regardless of the relationship they have with you, take that right away.

Always fight for your rights. Stay strong. Stay brave. Normalize saying no. Hold your head high at all times. Normalize not bowing to injustice. Normalize not retreating when someone regardless of power and gender abuses your rights.

No one can fight for your rights, better than yourself.

Well, I hope this spring is full of good news for all of us ^.^

Happy Nowruz again ^^

Woman  Life  Freedom ✌🏼