Accidentally Yours (Merffy Kizzmet) novel Chapter 198

Chapter 198

Enzo

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The parking lot was chaos: bystanders pressed back by security, neon mall signs flickering over blood on asphalt, radios spitting static. Enzo’s men had fanned wide, twelve shadows forming a perimeter, weapons under jackets, scanning rooflines and sight lines. Civilians sobbed, shouted, scattered. Sirens split the air, grinding closer.

The ambulance screeched in hard, back doors slamming wide. Medics spilled out, bags slung, gloves snapping. One of them dropped to his knees beside Nico, shouldering Lola aside with the careful force of habit. “Pulse?” he barked to his partner, already pressing pads to Nico’s chest.

Lola clung anyway, her hands sticky with his blood. “He’s not gone,” she rasped. “He’s not.”

“Ma’am, please-” The medic tried to move her hand, but Enzo was there first, his palm wrapping her shoulder, holding her in place. His face was carved from stone.

“Check him,” Enzo said, voice low, dangerous. “Now.”

They worked–compressions, bag valve, monitor. The flatline whine was merciless. Enzo’s jaw locked.

The lead medic exhaled hard, pulled his gloves down, and said the words Enzo already knew were coming:

“Time of death, 10:42 a.m.”

The world tilted. Lola screamed, high and cracked, and Enzo’s knees nearly gave. The sound carried across the lot, through the crowd, past the men straining for angles. It branded itself into him.

The medic’s voice kept going–protocol, pronouncement, radio codes–but Enzo didn’t hear it. He only heard her.

Lola bent over Nico’s chest, sobbing into his shirt. Her hands refused to let go. “You don’t get to take him,” she hissed at the medic, at God, at the whole fucking world.

Enzo caught the look on Dom’s face across the lot–rage ready to combust–and the emptiness in Gino’s eyes that said he’d follow Enzo wherever this vengeance led.

But Enzo wasn’t ready for vengeance yet. He was still drowning.

He bent, put his forehead to Nico’s cooling temple, and let the truth cut him open. “Fratello…”

His brother was gone.

And the whole city was about to bleed for it.

The words still echoed when Enzo forced himself to stand. His knees ached from the asphalt, his slacks were soaked with Nico’s blood, but none of that mattered. The only thing that mattered was Lola–her body folded over Nico’s chest, her sobs ripping through the sirens like they could reverse time if she just screamed loud enough.

He touched her shoulder. She didn’t move. Didn’t even flinch. Just stayed locked there, as if her grip alone could tether Nico back.

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11:27 Thu, Oct 9

Chapter 198

“Amore,” he rasped, his voice shredded. “We have to go.”

She shook her head against Nico’s shirt, a violent denial. “No. No, I can’t-”

“You can.” His hand pressed harder, anchoring her. He wanted to say I can’t either, but he couldn’t afford it. Not here. Not now.

Around them, his men were locking the perimeter. Dom was barking into a radio, eyes sweeping rooftops. Gino had his gun drawn low against his thigh, face carved into fury. The twelve–man detail had cordoned off civilians, their presence a silent wall against the chaos. But Enzo knew: the longer they stayed, the more exposed they were. Whoever had taken the shot wasn’t sloppy. If they wanted a second strike, it was coming.

He slid his hand from her shoulder to the back of her neck, forcing her to feel his steadiness. “Lola. Look at me.”

She did, finally, her face streaked with tears, blood smeared across her cheek where she’d pressed into Nico’s chest. She looked breakable in a way he’d never let the world see.

“Please,” he said, low enough only she could hear. “Let me get you out. Don’t make me lose both of you today.”

That landed. Her sob cracked, but her fingers loosened from Nico’s shirt. He eased her back, held her to his chest while Dom and two guards stepped in with a black body bag. The sound of the zipper felt like a knife sawing through bone.

Lola buried her face in Enzo’s jacket, shaking. He braced himself against the weight of her grief–and the cavern opening in his own chest where Nico used to be.

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“Move,” he snapped to the men. His voice was gravel, merciless. “Secure the car. We’re done here.”

The engines roared to life. Sirens still wailed. And Enzo carried Lola away from the body of his brother, every step heavier than the last.

The SUV door yawned open. He slid inside with her still clutched tight, pulled her onto his lap as the convoy rolled. The city blurred past in neon streaks, but inside the cab it was only her broken breath against his throat.

She whispered into his jacket, voice shredded. “It should’ve been me.”

His chest seized. He tilted her chin, forced her eyes up. “No. Don’t you ever say that. Don’t.”

Her lashes were wet, face streaked in blood that wasn’t hers. “He’s gone.”

“I know,” Enzo whispered, forehead pressed to hers. His voice cracked, low enough only she could hear. “But you’re not. I’ve still got you. That’s all that matters now.”

Her body shook against him, sobs muffled into his shirt. He cradled her, rocking gently, a motion he didn’t know he remembered until it was there–something learned in childhood, used now because words couldn’t carry weight enough.

He kissed her hair, her temple, every tremor, whispering between each one like a vow: “I’ve got you. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

The SUV swallowed their grief, tires eating distance, while behind them Nico’s absence burned brighter than the Strip lights.

Enzo cradled her against his chest, his own ribs aching from how hard she pressed in. He stroked her hair, her back, anything to anchor her. His suit was ruined, soaked through, but he didn’t give a fuck.

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