Potere | Book II ✓

xxi | as long as i love you

Our hug ends too soon, at least that's how it feels. He keeps me close, and never turns to face the army that has now settled in position behind him. His hands rest on my side as I fight the ignorant urge to run, which would only end with a bullet in the back of my head.

"Too many," I say again in a breathless whisper. I can feel myself getting nervous. Nervous because I know Liam isn't coming, nor would he be here in time if he was. My eyes dance across the figures over Federico's shoulder. "There's too many—"

He grabs my forearm and squeezes. Our eyes meet. Something changes. I see it. I witness it, but I can't explain it. It's dark, cold, and uninviting. It's sick, twisted, and unforgiving. It's unrecognizable.

Federico's casket might've been empty, but we lowered a piece of him into the grave on that cold, rainy day.

"You say there's too many soldiers, like you don't know what I'm capable of."

He doesn't give me time to respond, and I'm grateful for it, because he'd be waiting a long time. With my mouth partially open, still processing the deep voice that surpassed his lips, Rico turns around and faces the Russian army.

I have never seen a group of so many men falter at once. Their eyes land on the assassin that stands over their own, and their weapons nearly fall out of their hands. Some take a step back, while others look around in sheer confusion.

They look more scared than the weaponless assassin, proving to me that a gun does not always make a man brave. Rico advances, and that's what stops all of them from opening fire. A man that can confidently walk towards weapons aimed in his direction is not a man most people want to mess with.

The commanding soldier says the only thing on everybody's mind. "You died."

"Hell was toasty." Federico comes to a stop just a foot in front of the soldier. I can hear the smile in his voice, the laugh that's threatening to rise from the back of his throat. "A solid ninety-degrees." He yanks up the sleeve of his hoodie and sticks out his arm. "What do you think about my tan? I'm thinking about going back—on vaca—"

The soldier rolls his eyes and tries to pass Federico, eyes on their fallen demon. Rico stops him with a hand to the chest.

The Russian's eyes narrow. "I am not here for you. I came for him. We came for him." He nods at Diavolo's still form. "You are outnumbered, and you and your friend will certainly be dead if you don't get your hand off me."

Federico, surprisingly, does as asked. "Are you threatening me?"

"Are you scared?"

I can feel the energy shift. The Russian army steps forward, guns raised, but Rico is too focused on the leading soldier to notice. Without a doubt in my mind, I know they wouldn't hesitate to drop Federico, and I know for a fact that I would be next.

I move forward at a quick, walking pace. I'm not armed. I have no plan. All I want to do is to separate Federico and the Russian soldier in hopes of deescalating the rapidly changing situation. I grab a fistful of his hoodie and tug, but Rico's already gotten in the soldier's face.

"I put a gun in my mouth and almost swallowed a bullet—" He grinds out. "do I look like I feel fear?"

"Rico—" My strength is nothing in comparison to his. I can't separate the two.

The soldier shoves him, and the domino effect almost sends me tumbling to the ground. I catch myself and whirl on the armed man. I'm stopped dead in my tracks.