Sold to the Capo-Chapter 127: ONE LAST GOODBYE

ADRIANA’S POV

Silence and a faint ringing sensation in my ear as the gun kicked back in my grip, the sharp crack of the shot echoing through the warehouse. Julius let out a strangled yell, stumbling back, clutching his shoulder as blood bloomed across his suit.

I had shot him at the last minute. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t put a bullet through Vincenzo. Even if I did, I would end up being killed, something about those men told me that they simply wanted Vincenzo to experience true pain by dying by my hands then they would kill me too. I wouldn’t give them that satisfaction.

Chaos erupted.

Vincenzo moved first, despite the fact that he could barely stand. He lunged forward, the chair he was strapped to groaning under his weight as he jerked against the restraints. His body was failing him—he was weak, battered, bleeding out—but his eyes burned with a fire that hadn’t died.

"Get her!" Rossi barked, already reaching for his gun.

My eyes widened as the door to where we were opened and several men rushed in for backup, guns and weapons in their hands as they hurriedly accessed the situation.

Shit.

I didn’t think—I fired again. The bullet struck another man near the crates, sending him sprawling backward. A roar filled my ears—adrenaline, terror, fury all tangled together.

"Adriana!" Vincenzo’s voice was hoarse, but there was an urgency in it. "MOVE!"

I barely had time to duck before another shot whizzed past my ear. My heart slammed against my ribs as I rolled behind a stack of wooden crates, gripping the gun with slick, trembling fingers.

Julius was still upright, cursing through gritted teeth as he pressed a hand to his wound. "You little—!"

I didn’t wait for him to finish. I raised my gun again, but before I could pull the trigger, two of his men charged at me.

One grabbed my wrist, twisting it violently. Pain shot up my arm as the gun clattered to the ground. The other yanked me back, his arm locking around my throat.

A mistake.

I slammed my elbow into his ribs. He grunted, loosening his grip just enough for me to twist out. My fist connected with his jaw before I snatched the gun from the floor, turned, and fired point-blank into his chest.

The second man hesitated. That was all I needed.

I spun, kicking his knee out from under him before slamming the butt of the gun against his temple. He dropped like a stone.

But there were still more of them.

Across the room, Vincenzo had somehow forced himself to his feet. His body swayed dangerously, blood soaking through his shirt, but he grabbed a discarded knife from the table and drove it into the throat of a man lunging toward him.

More gunfire. Shouting.

I dropped behind another crate as bullets splintered the wood inches from my head. My breaths came in sharp, ragged gasps. I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop.

"Adriana!" Vincenzo staggered toward me, nearly collapsing, but another man grabbed him from behind.

"NO!" I fired twice—the first shot missed, but the second hit home. The man crumpled, and Vincenzo barely caught himself against the wall. He was fading fast.

He was bleeding out. He wouldn’t last long. He was already swaying on his feet and I knew that it wouldn’t be long until he collapsed to the floor. He couldn’t hold out for much longer.

"Rossi!" Julius bellowed.

Rossi was already aiming at me.

I turned my gun on him.

"Think, girl," he sneered, stepping closer. "You’re outnumbered. You shoot me, Julius will put a bullet in your skull before you can take your next breath."

My chest heaved and I hesitated, sweat beading my forehead.

He was right. 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

Julius still had his gun.

Vincenzo was seconds away from collapsing.

I was out of time.

Then—

A deafening explosion of gunfire from outside.

The warehouse doors burst open, and a storm of bullets rained in, making me take cover, a scream rippling from my throat as a bullet grazed me. Barely but still there.

"Salvatore!" A familiar voice roared through the chaos, and suddenly, men in black flooded the warehouse.

Rossi turned, cursing, but before he could react, a shot rang out—his gun flew from his grip as a bullet tore through his wrist.

Salvatore.

He strode through the wreckage, his gun still raised. Behind him, his men swept through, taking down the last of Julius’ people with cold precision.

"Bind them," Salvatore ordered, his voice lethal. "I want them breathing."

Julius, still gripping his shoulder, let out a hoarse chuckle. "Took you long enough."

Salvatore ignored him. His eyes locked onto Vincenzo, and for the first time, his mask cracked. "Christ."

Vincenzo barely managed to stay upright. His skin was ashen, his breathing shallow. Blood dripped steadily from the wounds littering his body.

Tears rushed to my eyes as I stared at his slumped figure on the cold, harsh floor. I had never seen him this vulnerable.

Salvatore rushed forward. "We need to get him out of here, now."

But Vincenzo didn’t move.

Instead, his weak, bloodied hand reached out—grasping my wrist.

I froze.

His grip was barely there, but the desperation in his eyes was suffocating.

"Don’t leave me," he rasped. "Please, Adriana. If you go... I’ll lose everything." His breath hitched. "Nothing will mean anything."

Something cracked in my chest.

But I couldn’t do this.

I couldn’t stay.

Tears burned my eyes as I pried his fingers away, ignoring the way he swayed dangerously.

Salvatore shot me a sharp look. "Adriana—"

"Don’t come looking for me," I choked out, turning away before I could crumble.

I walked out of the warehouse without looking back, tossing the gun to the floor as I took a car from the one of the guards and drove back to the casino.

As soon as I got into the casino, I snuck in through the back and went to my room, I needed to get myself stitched up before I took a shower.

I locked the door behind me, my fingers shaking as I leaned against it, sucking in ragged breaths. My body ached all over, but the sharp sting along my arm was impossible to ignore.

The bullet had only grazed me—barely missing my flesh—but it had torn through enough skin to leave an open wound, raw and bleeding. The sting had turned into a steady, pulsing burn.

I staggered toward the small cabinet near my dresser, throwing it open and rummaging through the first aid kit I had grabbed from the store days ago. I had kept it out of paranoia, never thinking I would actually need it.

Until now.

My hands trembled as I pulled out a needle and thread, a small bottle of alcohol, gauze, and a roll of medical tape. I found a pair of small scissors and grabbed them, along with a lighter that Hale used from the bedside table.

Hale. I needed to make sure he was fine later.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my breath hitching as I rolled up my bloodstained sleeve. The wound stretched across the side of my arm, about three inches long, the flesh torn just enough to require stitches.

I bit my lip hard, pressing down on the edges of the cut to stop the bleeding. A sharp, searing pain shot through my arm, making me hiss through my teeth.

"Fuck," I whispered, blinking away the sting in my eyes.

I had no choice. I had to do this.

With stiff fingers, I flicked the lighter open, bringing the flame to the needle’s tip. The metal turned orange, the heat licking at the edge. My stomach twisted at the sight.

No turning back now.

I grabbed the bottle of alcohol, dousing a cotton pad before pressing it against the wound. Agony tore through me, white-hot and unbearable. My vision blurred for a second, and I had to bite back a strangled scream as I gritted my teeth against the pain.

The burning was relentless, spreading through my nerves like wildfire. I sucked in deep, shuddering breaths, my body shaking.

When the worst of it passed, I forced my fingers to work, threading the needle with the black surgical thread. My hands were slick with sweat, but I couldn’t stop now.

I positioned the needle at the torn skin, my jaw clenching as I counted under my breath.

One.

Two.

Three—

The needle pierced my flesh.

A strangled gasp tore from my throat, my entire body jerking as pain exploded in my arm. My vision wavered, sweat dripping down my brow, but I didn’t stop.

I pulled the needle through, the thread following, pulling my torn flesh together. The pain was unbearable, but I forced myself to keep going, stitch after agonizing stitch, my breath ragged and uneven.

Blood smeared my fingers, my nails digging into my thigh as I focused, keeping my hands steady. I had seen this done before. I knew how to do it. But nothing could have prepared me for the sheer, brutal agony of it.

By the time I tied off the last stitch, my entire body was trembling. My arm throbbed violently, my head spinning from the pain.

I grabbed another cotton pad, soaked it in alcohol, and pressed it against the fresh stitches. The burn was just as bad as the first time, but my body was too exhausted to react properly.

With sluggish movements, I wrapped my arm with gauze, securing it with the medical tape. The bleeding had slowed, but the pain hadn’t. It wouldn’t for a while.

I let out a shaky breath, my muscles weak, my body drained.

My throat felt tight as I stood on unsteady legs, staring at my own reflection in the mirror. My face was pale, my eyes hollow. Blood smeared my arms, my hands, my clothes.

I looked like a ghost.

A broken, haunted ghost.

My fingers fumbled with the buttons of my ruined shirt, and I peeled it off with difficulty, wincing as the fabric dragged over my fresh stitches. I barely managed to step into the bathroom, my body moving on autopilot as I turned the shower knob.

The shower scalded my skin, but I barely felt it.

Water streamed down my face, mixing with my tears as I pressed my forehead against the cool tiles.

I scrubbed at my arms, my chest, my hands, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t wash it away.

The memories. The blood. The truth.

I had no father.

The man I thought was my father had tormented me. And the only other man who had ever mattered... had killed someone I once loved.

A broken sob tore from my throat.

I had nothing.

No family.

No future.

No Vincenzo.

I wanted to forget.

But I couldn’t.

Because suddenly, something clicked in my mind.

Michael.

The way he always looked out for me. The way he interfered in my life, always watching, always protecting.

And Don Stephen... he had called him my father.

My stomach twisted. It made sense.

It all made sense.

I barely realized I was crying again, my fingers trembling as I pressed them to my lips.

Michael... was my real father.

My hands trembled as I stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around myself.

I needed to leave.

Before it was too late. It was all over now anyways.

I found a phone in the casino. The guards had gotten me a phone as soon as I asked. My fingers hesitated before dialing the only number I knew would answer.

Valentina picked up on the second ring. "Adriana?"

My breath hitched. "How is he?"

A pause. Then—"He’s in a coma."

Everything inside me caved.

Val’s voice softened. "Where are you?"

I didn’t answer.

"You’re thinking of leaving."

My silence was enough.

"Adriana," her voice was urgent, "don’t make the wrong decision. You love him. He needs you."

I squeezed my eyes shut. I couldn’t do this.

I hung up.

A few hours after midnight, I packed my bag with shaking hands.

One suitcase. No ties.

I had to go.

A knock at the door froze me in place. Slowly, I moved toward it. My fingers curled around the handle.

I pulled it open.

Michael.

My breath caught.

His face was unreadable, but his eyes...

Before he could speak, I cut him off.

"I know who you are."

He sighed heavily, guilt in his eyes. "That’s why I’m here"

"Five minutes. That’s all you have"