Chapter 3
Serena's POV
Twenty-four hours.
That was the exact countdown until my permanent exit from New York.
But tonight, Matteo insisted on dragging me to Brooklyn for the grand opening of an underground casino. A massive show of "syndicate unity." Naturally, he brought his fragile little shadow, Anna.
Backseat of his bulletproof Maybach. The air was thick and suffocating.
Anna sat on his left, latched onto his arm like a parasite, bitching about the New York cold. I sat on the far right, leaning against the chill of the glass. With one AirPod in, I watched the blurred streetlights bleed past, mentally mapping my route to the airport.
"Drop the fucking corpse face, Serena," Matteo snapped, shattering the silence. I felt his glare on the side of my head. "Tomorrow's the wedding. You better act like a proper Donna tonight. I won't tolerate any fuck-ups."
"Don't worry, Matteo," I said casually. "Tomorrow is going to be a day you'll never forget."
The Maybach turned off the main drag, crawling into a narrow, unlit alleyway toward the casino's VIP entrance.
That was when all hell broke loose.
Pop. Pop, pop—BANG!
The deafening roar of automatic gunfire tore the night in half. Two black SUVs swerved out from the cross street ahead, barricading the alley. Windows dropped. The pitch-black muzzles of assault rifles locked onto our hood.
"Colombos! Get the fuck down!" the head bodyguard roared from the passenger seat, drawing his weapon.
Bullets hammered the Maybach. The armored glass spiderwebbed instantly, screeching under the intense kinetic pressure.
"Ahhhhh!" Anna shrieked in blind terror.
Instantly, Matteo lunged violently to the left. He tackled her to the floorboards, throwing his massive body over hers, burying her head beneath his chest to shield her from the shattering glass.
I was left on the right side. Completely exposed in the kill zone.
Time stopped.
In my past life, in this exact moment, I threw myself across the leather seats like a madwoman. Used my own body as a human shield for him. Took the bullets meant for his heart. I thought it was loyalty. I thought it was love.
But now, sitting in the crossfire, watching the man I was supposed to marry unconditionally risk my life to save another woman... I didn't feel a drop of rage.
Just a sickening wave of pity for the stupid girl I used to be.
I didn't scream. I didn't beg for his help.
I instantly dropped below the window line, wedging my shoulder against the reinforced steel of the door frame for cover. I reached down to my ankle boot and pulled a compact Glock 19.
Clack. I racked the slide.
Through a gap in the shattered glass, I spotted a muzzle flash. I popped up just enough to clear the frame, aimed, and squeezed the trigger three times. Return fire. A Colombo hitman in a ski mask dropped behind the opposing SUV door.
The brutal firefight lasted five agonizing minutes before Gambino backup swarmed the alley. Overwhelmed, the Colombos peeled out. The air choked with the acrid stench of burnt gunpowder and shredded rubber.
"Anna? Baby, are you hit?!" Matteo's frantic voice filled the smoking cabin. He hoisted her up, desperately checking her body.
"I'm fine... Matteo... I was so scared..." she bawled, clinging to his neck like a lifeline.
It was only after he knew she was safe that Matteo finally remembered me.
He whipped his head around.
He froze.
I was sitting in the corner, calmly clicking the safety back onto my Glock. I slid it back into my boot and brushed the glittering shards of glass off my coat.
Panic, followed instantly by defensive guilt, washed over Matteo's face.
"Serena..." He swallowed hard, scrambling for an excuse. "Fuck, it happened so fast. Anna... she doesn't know how to shoot. But you have training. I knew you could hold your own—"
"Shut the fuck up."
I stared at him with ice-cold detachment.
"You don't need to explain shit to me, Matteo. Who you protect is your business." I kicked the warped, bullet-dented car door open. The freezing night wind hit my face. "Just make sure you remember exactly who you chose tonight."
"Serena, wait—"
I didn't give them a second glance. I stepped out into the bloody snow and walked straight toward the backup Escalade.
Midnight.
I locked my bedroom door at the estate. Threw my essentials into a black leather duffel bag. I packed light. Passports, clean cash, a few changes of clothes. Anything bought with dirty Gambino money, any piece of jewelry Matteo had ever given me, rotted in the closet.
I walked to the mahogany desk, pulled out a crisp sheet of stationery, and uncapped a pen.
Tomorrow was the wedding. Tomorrow was my rebirth.
You love playing the savior, Matteo, I thought. Fine.
I wrote two brutal lines. Then, I slid the three-carat diamond ring off my finger and pressed it hard into the center of the note as a paperweight.
I pulled out my phone. Sent an encrypted text to Lucas Valenti.
Professor. I'm ready. Leaving tonight.
3:00 AM.
Snow fell in thick, blinding sheets, burying the blood and filth of this wretched city.
The estate was dead silent. Down the hall, Matteo was still holed up in Anna's bedroom, playing the devoted guardian because his precious stepsister was "too traumatized" to sleep alone.
Perfect.
I slipped through the lavish hallways like a ghost, bypassed the security cameras, and pushed out the back service doors into the blizzard.
A massive, black Lincoln Navigator idled in the shadows by the iron gates.
A man in a dark suit stepped out. Lucas's driver. He took my bag and handed me a secure cell phone.
I put it to my ear.
"I'm actually a little surprised you went through with it," Lucas's amused voice hummed through the speaker. "Tomorrow is the wedding of the century, after all."
"I'd rather rot in hell than marry Matteo Gambino." I climbed into the warm, leather-scented SUV and pulled the heavy door shut. "From tonight on, I'm just Serena."
The engine roared. The Navigator tore out into the blizzard, leaving the estate in the rearview mirror as we merged onto the highway toward Boston.
I looked back one last time at the silhouette of the mansion disappearing into the dark.
Not a single drop of regret.
Goodbye, past life.
Goodbye, to the stupid girl I used to be.
