Sold to the Capo-Chapter 39: THE FINAL BREATH

ADRIANA’S POV

The knock on the door wasn’t the kind of knock you hear from a casual visitor, the kind that fades away with the wind. It was sharp, frantic, almost desperate, and my heart instantly seized in my chest.

I froze as I heard a voice.

"Please... help me..."

The voice was unmistakably that of a child, high-pitched and weak. I felt a chill ripple through me, my blood going cold as those words echoed through the cabin. No one came out here. No one except... us.

I turned to Vincenzo, my stomach tightening. His gaze flicked to the door, his posture stiffening as if he had already read the situation in the same way I had. He said nothing, but the way his jaw tightened, the way he became more alert—more dangerous—told me that something was wrong.

"That was a kid," I whispered, my voice shaking. The realization hit me like a punch. A child. Out here. At this hour. In this place.

Vincenzo didn’t respond right away. Instead, he turned his attention fully to the door, listening for something which never came. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke.

"Go into the room. Get your gun."

The command was simple and curt, but it sent a rush of fear through me. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. My legs were already moving before my brain could catch up, and I rushed to the bedroom, my heart thumping painfully in my chest.

I grabbed the gun from the bedside table, my fingers trembling as I fumbled with the cold metal. It felt foreign in my hands, not something I ever thought I’d need. But in that moment, it felt like the only thing that would keep me safe—or at least keep me from spiraling into panic.

I made my way back to the living room, but before I could reach the door, Vincenzo was already gone. His figure was a shadow against the snow as he moved toward the front porch, disappearing into the night. I hesitated, my body stiff, not knowing what to do, but the sounds from outside—the crunch of snow beneath boots—compelled me forward.

I crept to the door, my breath shallow, and cracked it open just enough to see what was happening outside as the wind howled along with the wolves.

Vincenzo was kneeling, his back to me, cradling something small and limp in his arms. The figure was so small, and though I couldn’t see the person’s face, the blood staining the snow around them made it clear that something terrible had happened.

I felt a wave of nausea wash over me, my hands going clammy. What was he holding?

He moved out the way and I caught a glimpse of the person. It was a little girl.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. The child in his arms was so tiny—too small to be in the position she was in. She looked so... fragile. Her body was bruised and battered, her clothes torn and soaked in blood. I could only see shadows in the darkness, but my gut twisted as if I already knew the extent of her injuries.

Vincenzo moved swiftly, turning toward the door with the girl in his arms, his expression grim and determined. I quickly moved out of the way as he walked back into the cabin, kicking the door shut with his leg, and without a second glance, he stepped inside, gently lowering the child onto the carpet in front of the fireplace.

I rushed to him, my stomach turning as I kneeled beside the girl, taking in her wounds. She was covered in blood—deep gashes, contusions, the kind of injuries that couldn’t be explained by any accident. Whoever had done this to her had done it with cruelty, with no remorse.

I reached for her, my hands hovering over her body, unsure of what to do. I couldn’t focus—her small body, her bruised face, it was all too much. But something about the look in Vincenzo’s eyes—his intensity, his control, and something like recognition—told me we had no time to waste.

"What happened to her?" My voice broke as I asked the question, the words slipping from my mouth as if they were meaningless.

Vincenzo didn’t answer immediately. His hands were already working, trying to stem the flow of blood from a wound near the girl’s stomach. He didn’t need to answer; he was doing something. He was trying to save her. But I wasn’t sure how to help.

"Get the first aid kit. Now." His command was sharp, and firm.

I didn’t need another instruction. I nodded and rushed into the kitchen. My mind was scattered—what if I wasn’t fast enough? What if it was too late?

The kit was in the drawer, but it felt heavy in my hands as I pulled it out, my fingers trembling. My heart pounded with each passing second. I didn’t know what was happening, but I could see it on Vincenzo’s face. This was a matter of life or death, and she was edging toward the option of death already.

When I returned, Vincenzo had already started to work on the child, his movements were fast and efficient. He applied pressure to the girl’s abdomen, trying to stop the bleeding. His face was hard, his brow furrowed in concentration.

I knelt beside him, my hands shaking as I opened the kit and grabbed what I could. I wasn’t an expert in this. Hell, I wasn’t even trained to handle things like this. But one look at the little girl’s pale face contorted in pain and I ignored the tears stinging my eyes.

I pressed bandages against the worst of the wounds, trying to stop the blood from flowing, but I knew it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t going to be enough.

"Please," the girl whispered, her voice fragile, barely audible. Her eyes fluttered open, and despite the pain she was in, she looked up at Vincenzo. "Signore..."

I froze, my hand still pressed against the girl’s side. She was so young—so innocent. It was hard to believe that someone could do this to her. And yet, here she was, so fragile, so close to death and she knew Vincenzo?

But as she spoke, her breath became more labored, more shallow. Her small chest rose and fell erratically, the rhythm of her breathing slowing with each second.

"Hold on," I whispered, even though I knew it was pointless.

Vincenzo was still trying to stop the blood, his face taut with concentration, but the desperation was clear. He knew, too. He knew it was too late.

The girl’s breathing stopped altogether. Her chest stilled, and her hand, which had been weakly gripping the edge of the carpet, fell limply to the side.

"No," Vincenzo muttered under his breath, his hands still on her body, but there was no pulse. No movement. She was gone.

I felt a wave of nausea hit me, my stomach turning as the reality of the situation crashed down on me. The child was dead. She had been struggling to hold on a moment ago, so small, and now... now she was gone.

I couldn’t breathe. My chest felt tight as tears began to sting my eyes. I wanted to scream, to ask why, to do something to make it stop. But all I could do was sit there, my hands trembling, as Vincenzo slowly stood up.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t say anything. His hands, which had been so steady moments before, now looked shaky as he pulled a jacket from the back of a chair and gently laid it over the girl’s lifeless body.

I stayed where I was, staring at the small form on the floor, unable to tear my gaze away. The weight of it was crushing. A child, barely older than 12 years old, had just lost her life in this godforsaken place. I could feel the grief tightening around my chest, the overwhelming sadness threatening to consume me.

Vincenzo didn’t look back. Without a word, he turned and walked away, heading toward the hallway. He didn’t even glance at me.

I was left with the girl’s body, the silence of the cabin pressing in around me. I couldn’t do anything.

I stood up slowly, wiping my eyes, my heart pounding in my chest as I looked at the covered-up body.

"I’m sorry" I whispered to no one in particular as I choked back a sob.

I needed to know what Vincenzo was doing. I needed to understand what had just happened.

I moved toward the bedroom, the door slightly ajar. I couldn’t stop myself from pushing it open just enough to see him. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head buried in his hands. His shoulders were shaking. The powerful, ruthless Vincenzo, the man who had always been in control, was breaking.

For the first time, I saw it—the vulnerability beneath the cold exterior. The raw, unspoken pain.

My breath caught in my throat. I’d never seen him like this. Never.

And in that moment, I realized that, just like me, he wasn’t invincible. He wasn’t the untouchable force I had always believed him to be. He was human.

I stood frozen in the doorway, my heart aching for him in this state, for the child.

I didn’t know how long I stayed there, but when I finally backed away, I did it silently, closing the door softly behind me.

And as I walked away, I could still hear his sobs echoing in my chest, a sound I would never forget.

Because at that moment, he had unwillingly shown me another part of himself.

And it was all over the loss of the child lying in the next room.

I pressed my back to the wall, throwing my head back against it as I slid to the ground, tears streaming down my face as I thought about what just happened, my hand still caked in blood.

Her blood.

"I’m sorry" I finally let out the scream I had been harboring as I wept for her.