Trapped in his End Game (Series)

“Surprise.” His lips pull into a grin, revealing two rows of stained teeth.

My heart pounds behind my ribs, my eyes wide as I seek out my mom, who has her hand covering her mouth. Vomit rises up my throat, but I swallow it down. It burns.

The grin becomes a grimace. “I ought to blow your fucking brains out.”

Mom stands behind him. “No, Richie!”

The metal digs in my temple and I flinch horribly.

“Don’t,” I tremble. “Please don’t kill me.”

I stare into his angry gaze-a face that looks so familiar. He’s a stocky man with jet-black hair and eyes, slicked back hair with a sharp widow’s peak. His thick black eyebrows are narrowed in an expression of violent contempt.

“Richie, don’t hurt her.”

“Shut your fucking mouth.” He turns his head sideways to address my mother.

“W-what’s going on?”

He turns back to me. “You’re going to call that cock-sucking piece of shit Cesare and tell him to come here. And if you tip him off in any way, I’ll kill you.”

Mom strides to his elbow and she grabs his arm. “Richie, that’s not what we discussed-ah!”Content from NôvelDr(a)ma.Org.

She screams as Richie gives her a vicious backhand that leaves her sprawling on the ground. The hateful eyes find me again, cutting deep.

Under my fear, a sliver of confusion rises to the surface. Not what we discussed?

“Just give me a fucking reason. I’ve dealt with your piece of shit family and your cunt of a mother for years.”

“I won’t let you hurt my daughter!” She rises to her feet.

“You want your fucking debts paid off? Then shut the fuck up!”

Her words ring through the apartment, cutting me down to my soul. I forget myself for a moment.

“What does he mean, your debts will be paid off? What did you do?”

Mom braces herself against the wall and gives me a miserable look. “Oh, Adriana.”

“Me and Vincent have a score to settle. My fucking brother is in the hospital.”

That’s why he looks so familiar. Silvio’s brother. They look exactly alike.

“The boss wants him dead, anyway. Not that I give a fuck about Tony and his fucking war.”

“Call him, Adriana.” My mother stands behind Richie, looking pale but determined.

A rush of hatred I’ve never felt before consumes my chest. “You were going to agree to let him kill my fiance? For what?”

She winces. “You never even mentioned him to me. I didn’t know-”

“Both of you shut the fuck up!”

I jump at the sound of his voice. His gun digs in my skull with every syllable.

“Call him.”

“No.”

“CALL HIM OR I SWEAR I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU!”

My eyes shut as he screams in my face, tears squeeze through my lids and run down my face.

“If you don’t, I will,” Mom says evenly.

Hatred bubbles in my chest as I reach in my purse.

“Put it on speakerphone. Do it!”

Helpless, I put it on speakerphone and press my finger over Vince’s name. I won’t lead him to his death. I’ll warn him, somehow.

What should I say?

His voice cracks on the speaker.

“Finally, you answer your phone. I got your text. What’s the matter?”

I swallow hard. “Can you come get me now?”

“Is something wrong? Your voice sounds a little-”

I don’t hear the rest, because Richie’s eyes bulge at me in warning. The gun knocks against my head again. “My throat’s just a little dry. Can you bring me a glass of water-I mean, a bottle?”

Silence.

Please remember it. I squeeze my eyes and hope that Vince remembers that stupid phrase he taught me if anything happened during those games.

“Sure,” he says in a controlled voice. “How many?”

How many people?

“Just one, I think. One should do it.”

“Be there soon. I love you.”

“L-love you, too.”

Richie seizes my phone, looking confused and outraged. “What was that, you fucking whore? Some kind of code? What, you think I’m stupid?”

Shit!

“No! I-I was just-” My hands fly in the air as he cocks the gun. “Oh, God. I swear I was just trying to act normal!”

I can see by looking in Richie’s narrowed eyes that he isn’t buying it.

“C’mere you little cunt.”

He grabs me by the hair and drags me into the kitchen, the gun burrowing into the soft flesh of my neck.

“You’re going to sit down at the fucking table. If you move, I’ll kill you. Tommy!”

There’s another man in the house? My heart sinks as I collapse in the kitchen chair. I’ve fucking killed him. He won’t be expecting another gunman.

Another man’s shadow moves in the house. “Yeah?”

“You keep your eyes on the door. I want that prick dead.”

“Got it.”

Fuck.

Richie slinks down the hall, his gun trained on me.

“Sit down next to her,” he barks at my mother, who balks at him.

“But-”

“Jesus fucking Christ-”

“All right!”

I bristle when she sits down next to me. Her large brown eyes stare at me beseechingly and I want to strangle her.

She set me up.

My own mother. I’ll never forgive her for this.

There’s no time to think about my rage. Right now, all I want to do is survive the day.

All of us tense as we hear a knock at the door.

Vince, no!

Richie jerks the gun at me. “You, go answer it. Don’t even think about running off.”

My legs somehow move towards the door, my shoulders tightened. I expect the door to blow open. I hope to God Vince figured it out. My palm falls over the doorknob and my fingers close around the brass. I twist it and it creaks open.

There’s no one.

I turn around to go back inside, but then I see him, crouched on the side of the house and aiming a gun-at me. I tense as he aims away and presses a long finger to his lips. My lips tremble as I sound out, “two.” He nods in understanding.

“There’s no one there.”

“Lying cunt,” the angry voice says behind me. “Cesare, come inside with your hands up, and I won’t kill your whore.”

Before I can move, his hand is wrapped around my throat and he pulls me back into his body.

“Get off me!”

Suddenly, there’s a sound of a crash in the kitchen. The man aiming his gun at the door, waiting for Vince to step aside, makes a jerking movement.

“Fuck. He’s not alone. Go check it out!” Rotting breath billows over my face. “You fucking stupid cunt. You tipped him off.”

His thumbs cut off my air. My windpipe feels like it’s being crushed.

There’s a banging noise in the kitchen, then a small series of zwips. A loud crash. Something heavy falls on the floor, shaking the apartment.

“Jesus, fuck!”

My mother screams from the kitchen. “He’s dead! He’s been shot!”

Good.

“Richie, I’m coming inside,” I hear his gravelly voice near the front door.

“No, Vincent! Don’t!” I scream.

“Shut the fuck up!”

Despite my pleas, Vince walks in with his hands held up, his slacks slightly wet from the snow outside. His expression is unreadable.

“Well, least I know Tony didn’t plan this,” he drawls. “You really didn’t think this hit through, did you?”

“Fuck Tony! I got her mother to bring her here!”

Vincent’s black gaze flashes in the direction of the kitchen, where my mother stands. His face twists.

“So what the fuck do you want, eh? What’s your plan, here? I have guys waiting outside for you to leave. You can leave here in one piece or you can leave in the back of my trunk. It’s your choice.”

“You almost killed my brother! And for what? This broad?”

“He disrespected me at one of my games and he threatened to kill me. I was well within my rights-”

“You think this is the end? The Vittorios are finished. You are on Tony’s hit list, pal.”

“Well, he came, he tried, and I’m still here. Even I never thought Tony would order a hit on all of us while we were surrounded by family, in such a public place. Slimy cocksucker.”

The hand around my throat tightens and I claw at the fingers.

“Let her go,” he growls again.

“Go fuck yourself.”

“There’s no way out, Richard.”

He’s closing my throat of air, shutting the flow of oxygen as I stare at Vince, wide-eyed. “Please.”

Richie shifts, pulling me in front of him as a human shield as he extends his arm with the gun. I scream as the gun fires. Something wet sprays all over my face and Richie’s body falls to the floor with a resolute thud. Vince steps over the threshold, his face a mask of fury. He raises his gun at the body. Pop. Pop. Two bullets sink into Richie’s chest. A third burns a black hole between his eyes.

Mom steps in the hallway and screams, mirroring the feelings boiling inside me.

“Nicky, get in here!”

The short man dashes inside. “Holy fuck,” he says as he almost stumbles over the body. “He’s from Jersey.”

Vince doesn’t speak a word; he strides into the kitchen and grabs my mother, who screams bloody murder. She falls to her knees in front of the body and he digs the nozzle of his gun in the back of her head.

“Fucking stupid bitch!”

No.