Amelia

As I waited for Dion to come back, I paced up and down in his office, my nerves and self-doubt shattering my illusions of freedom with every step. I'd raced upstairs and grabbed the Glock that Dion had given me last night. I'd checked and re-checked it was loaded and ready to go about ten times already.

The dogs sat under the window, watching me wear a path into Dion's hardwood floor. Could it really be this easy? Could I really end my torment in less than an hour and ease the lives of God knows how many people at the same time?

"Hey."

I looked up to see Dion standing in the doorway to his office. "Hi."

He smiled at me and pointed to the gun in my hand. "Do you know...have you ever shot a gun before?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, Dion. And I'm good."

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I think so."

"He'll be here in ten minutes, sweetheart. 'I think so' really doesn't cut it right now."

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. "Yes," I said, exhaling and letting my breath out. I opened my eyes. "I can do this. I WILL do this."

"I have a question...when you married him, did he make you sign a pre-nup?"

She grinned and visibly relaxed. "Nope."

"So when he's dead..."

"Everything is mine and the baby's."

He beamed at me. "That is exactly what I wanted to hear."

I smiled back at him. His phone rang, instantly creating a swell of nausea inside me. "Yeah?" he said, answering the call. His eyes met mine and I knew then that this was it. It was time.

***

After Dion hung up, he rushed forwards and cupped my face in his hands. "One car. Four men. He thinks he has the element of surprise still. Keep your calm. Ok? You can do this."

I nodded, trying to ignore the pounding of my heart against my ribs. My temperature was through the roof, sweat beading already on my forehead.

Dion leaned forwards and planted a kiss on my lips. "See you soon."

He rushed out of the office and disappeared, leaving me alone, save for my two bodyguards. I sat down in Dion's leather chair and stared at the front door, waiting for my husband to burst through it. Seconds turned into minutes. Nothing happened.

"Where the fuck is he?" I murmured, running my finger over the barrel of the gun.

The front door burst wide open and there stood my husband, flanked by three giant henchmen; Lorenzo, Marco, and a recent employee called Paolo.

"My darling wife," he said, opening his arms wide. "How lovely to see you again after all this time."

He walked towards me, his expensive shoes clicking against the wooden floorboards. The man who'd made my life nothing but a living nightmare had returned to drag me back to hell. Each step he took sounded like a death toll in my ears.

I grasped the handle of the Glock, reassuring myself of its presence. I could do this. One swift move, a trained aim, a quick squeeze of the trigger and it would all be over. I took a deep breath and calmed myself. I couldn't afford to give him any inkling whatsoever of my intentions.

My mouth ran dry. My heart leapt against my ribs. Giovanni came to a stop in the doorway, Lorenzo and Paolo flanking each side of him. I couldn't see Marco. They filled the small space and more. A sinister grin spread over Giovanni's face.

"My darling wife," he said again, still holding out his arms. "How lovely to see you."

I stared back at him, blank and impassive.

He stepped forwards into the room and looked behind the door. Then, he surveyed the room, slowly, dragging out the tension he knew he could create from just his presence alone. "Where is your lover, hmmm?"

"I don't have a lover."

"Of course you do. You expect me to believe that you've been hiding out with a feral motorcycle gang and not fucked them?"

"We're not all raving nymphomaniacs who have to shag everything all the time to stake a claim on it."

"Don't play your smart mouth with me now, Amelia. You should know better." He turned his head over his shoulder and said, "Give us some alone time." He then shut the door, leaving his brutes outside.

I struggled to contain my grin. This was perfect. Like it was meant to be.

"So, are you ready to come home?" he said, turning back to me.

"I don't have a home."

He took a step towards me. "Of course you do. You've always had a home with me, dearest wife."

"No. I had a prison. I'm not doing it anymore, Giovanni. The game is over. It's done."

"There was no game, darling. It's all in your head. You're being over dramatic. Come now, let's go home and sort this out."

I whipped the gun out and pointed it at him. "Don't tell me what is and isn't in my head."

Upon seeing the gun, he smiled and held his hands up, but the bastard still dared to take a step forwards. "Come on, Amelia. You're not going to shoot me."

"Wanna bet?" I said, clicking the safety off. "You wanted me to learn how to handle a gun, remember? Isn't it some sort of poetic justice that the skills you gave me will be the skills to finally finish you off?"

"And what do you think is going to happen to you once I'm dead, hmmm? You think that's just going to be it? That you can go back to your life and live happily ever after with your new boyfriend?"

"I don't care what happens so long as you're no longer alive."

"And what are you going to tell our child, hmmm? That mummy murdered daddy because she was feeling a little hormonal and a little paranoid?"

I smirked. "Oh no. You won't even come into the equation. He or she will never know you even existed."

He curled his top lip back in a wild snarl and marched towards the desk. "You fucking little bitch."

I aimed at his knees and pulled the trigger. Once. Twice. Three. Four times. He dropped to the floor, a stream of curse words turning the air blue.

"You fucking shot me!" he shouted. "You fucking shot me!"

I jumped out of the chair and stalked around the desk, keeping the gun trained on him. "I warned you. It's not my fault you didn't take my warning seriously. Now, have you got any last words?"

The door swung open, stealing my attention. Dion burst through, his face etched with concentration and his eyes hard and flat. The lumps of two bodies behind him told me that Lorenzo and Paolo were dearly departed.

"You ok?" he said, flicking his eyes up to me for the briefest of seconds before training them on Santini.

"Peachy," I replied.

"I want my fucking money, Santini," Dion said, circling him with his own gun pointed at him. "You're three weeks late."

"Well if you kill me, it'll be forever late, won't it?"

Anguish squeezed my heart. I'd completely forgotten about Dion's money. And my husband had a point. If he died, no one else could transfer the money.

Dion motioned his gun at him and said, "I'm sure you've got a phone or tablet on you somewhere, do it now."

Giovanni laughed. "You think I'm that stupid? My phone line at home is encrypted. It's the only line that money can be transferred through. I couldn't transfer you the money now even if I wanted to."

I licked my lips and attempted to swallow to dislodge the ball of fear in my throat. I looked up at Dion, wondering what the hell we do now.

"That's fine. We can work with that." He clicked the safety on his gun and stuffed it in the waistband of his pants. "You're not going anywhere fast. Let's go 'home', shall we?"

My mouth fell open. He couldn't be serious? He wanted to take the still alive, but severely damaged, Giovanni Santini home? What the...?

"Amelia," Dion said. "Come on, sweetheart. We haven't got time to kill."

"Are you insane?" I said, not meaning for my voice to come out all shrill and screechy.

"No." He tapped the side of his head with his index finger. "I have a plan."

I lowered my gun and clicked the safety on. "A man with a plan. How comforting."