The Slave of Pleasure
Chapter 93

Rachel The atmosphere in the room was thick and almost suffocating, the air thick with tension and an almost palpable fear. The shooting had stopped, but the threat seemed to loom, invisible, as if at any moment something terrible could happen again. Vincenzo stood in front of me, his gaze fixed on me with a furious intensity that seemed to burn like fire. It was a contained fury, an explosion that he kept trapped behind those dark eyes, and I could feel every inch of his body tense, as if it were about to boil over.

His face was a mix of concern and anger that I still didn't fully understand. He was breathing heavily, and I could feel the fury in his eyes as he watched me, but it seemed like he was fighting something inside himself, as if he wanted to say something but at the same time, didn't know how. Vincenzo was furious, and what frightened me was that I knew that his anger wasn't just because of the dangerous situation we were living in, but because of what it meant for both of us. My eyes darted nervously around the room, as if searching for something that could protect me or a quick escape route in case more gunfire rang out. But before anything could get out of hand, one of Vincenzo's bodyguards burst through the door with firm steps, breaking the heavy silence with his deep, urgent voice.

"Sir, we've captured the shooter," he said, his expression serious and intense. "He's being brought to the main entrance."

Those words made Vincenzo turn to him, the anger in his eyes igniting even more, as if the mere mention of the shooter were a match thrown into a powder keg. He took a deep breath, and I could see his fists clenching, as if he were trying to control a rage that was about to explode. Without saying anything, he held out his hand to the bodyguard, who handed him a pistol with automatic precision, as if the movement were already second nature to both of them.

Vincenzo gripped the pistol tightly, his footsteps echoing as he walked, without hesitation, out of the room. He walked with a cold, unwavering determination, each step a blow that deepened the sense of terror within me. He didn't look back, and I knew he had no intention of waiting or listening to anyone. The only thing that mattered to him at that moment was confronting the person who had dared to threaten our lives and safety.

"Vincenzo!" I shouted, my voice louder than I had intended. The urgency and desperation in my tone was clear, but he didn't stop. I could see the tension in his shoulders, the anger contained in every line of his body, but he ignored my plea, his steady steps continuing toward the main entrance.

I turned to the security guard standing next to me, the desperation in my eyes evident. "Please, let me go to him, we can't let him do this!" My voice was shaky, a mix of fear and determination. The security guard hesitated, but still, his expression remained firm as he tried to restrain me.

"Ma'am, it's best if you stay here," he said, trying to hold me with a firm grip, but I pulled away from him, adrenaline and desperation giving me a strength I didn't even know I had. I couldn't just stand by and let Vincenzo do something that could change everything between us, something he could never undo. I knew I had to do something, no matter what it took to stop him.

I ran down the hallway, my footsteps echoing and my heart beating faster than ever. I felt my breath quicken as I fought the rising panic that settled in my chest. When I finally reached the top of the main staircase, what I saw stopped me for a moment. Vincenzo stood on the bottom step of the stairs, his shoulders squared, and in his hand, the pistol pointed firmly.

In front of him, kneeling on the ground, was the shooter, his arms held tightly by two security guards. The man's head was down, his expression restrained, but I knew he was aware of the gravity of his situation. Vincenzo said nothing, just stared at him with an icy gaze, a deep, silent fury that seemed almost palpable.

"Vincenzo, don't do this!" I shouted, my voice thick with desperation. I knew he was listening, that he could hear me, but he didn't move a muscle. He stood there, motionless, just watching the man in front of him, as if trying to absorb every detail, every reason for doing what he was about to do.

I wanted to run to him, grab him and convince him to stop, but before I could take another step, one of the security guards blocked me, holding me tightly. I struggled against him, trying to get away, but it was as if he was determined not to let me get close to Vincenzo. The feeling of impotence Tension took over me, as if I were trapped in a situation I couldn't escape.

"Please, Vincenzo, don't do this!" I screamed, my voice cracking, the urgency in my words shining through as I struggled against the security guard's grip on me. The fear and anguish grew with each passing second, and I knew that if I didn't do something soon, I could lose something much bigger in that moment. I feared not only for the man on his knees, but for what this act would mean for Vincenzo and for us.

Vincenzo seemed unshakable, every fiber of his being focused on the man kneeling in front of him. It was as if all his focus, all his energy, was directed at this moment, at this person who had threatened what he valued most. And the anger he contained seemed to be on the verge of breaking.

"Get him on his feet,” Vincenzo ordered, his voice deep and filled with an icy authority I had never seen before. The security guards obeyed without hesitation, lifting the gunman until he was standing, still held tightly by them, but now looking directly at Vincenzo. My breathing was heavy, every fiber of my being was clenched with tension, and everything in me screamed at Vincenzo to stop. I couldn't let him do this, couldn't let him cross that line, because I knew that if he did, he might never be able to come back. He was about to cross a line that could change what we had forever, and I needed him to understand that. "Vincenzo, think about what you're doing!" I screamed, my voice desperate. "This isn't how you solve things! Please, think about the consequences!" I knew he could hear me, that he heard every word. Yet he remained still, just watching the man in front of him. The tension in the air was almost unbearable, as if the entire room was about to explode.