We’re only met with heavy breathing.
“Fucking answer me!”
“Yeah, yeah! Good.”
“Xander has been grazed,” pants Avery. “But we’ve got it covered.”
I can hear grunts and the struggle of the fight happening over the earpiece, but I can’t think about it. I just need to find her.
There’s another door at the end of this corridor. I have my hand on the handle when I feel a blow to the right side of my body.
“Arghhh!” I roar as I fold over in pain. I’ve been whacked hard in the side with a steel pole or bat or something.
Marco and Seb start shouting for me to answer them, but I can’t. I’m winded and know I need to push through the pain and lack of oxygen to fight off whoever attacked me.
The person lunges for me again, but I use my current position to my advantage and take him out by tackling him at the knees and dropping him to the floor. I quickly straddle him to stop him from reaching for the steel bar that clattered to the floor in our scuffle. He’s a similar height to me but skinny. Adrenaline has kicked in, dulling any pain I feel from the earlier blow to my body. A bolt of energy surges through me, and I lift my fist and punch the guy hard in the face, busting his nose open. He shrieks in pain as blood spurts everywhere, running into his eyes and all down his face.
I jump off him and open the door to find stairs leading down to a lower level. I take them two at a time. It’s cooler in here. Like I’m underground. It smells dank. I will my eyes to adjust to the darkness and strain my ears for any sign of her angelic voice.
“Raf. Where the fuck are you?” hisses Marco, like he’s trying to keep quiet.
“Trying to get my fucking wife back.”
“Get the fuck off me!” I hear him say to someone, before I hear what sounds like someone being kicked in the side. And the opening of a door.
“Are you down these stairs?”
Bang!
The sound of a gunshot strangles any hope I had left, and I swear I feel all the blood drain out of me. I run towards the sound, the drag of my body like lead, while the lightheadedness makes me imagine I’m floating above the entire scene.
I reach for my gun.Her gun.Holding it in one hand, I fling open the door.
My last breath is stolen from my body.
She’s sprawled lifelessly on her stomach across the hard, cold floor.Please angel, open your eyes. Shine those emerald eyes on me so I know you’re still here.My silent pleas go unanswered. She doesn’t move.Dark red blood is smeared across her forehead, stuck in her hair near the head gash that looks to be trickling bright red blood anew down her face. I want to run to her. Scoop her up and breathe life back into her, but Alessandro is standing above her, one heavy boot on her exposed spine, gun in his other hand.
His pupils are blown, and he’s agitated, sweating profusely.I raise my gun and point it at him.
“Ah, hello there Raf. I was waiting for you. I heard there was some action out there, and I was going to come and join the fun,” he says, a maniacal grin on his face. “But I thought, why go to the trouble when I knew you would come to me.”
Click.He takes the safety latch off. “Especially when I’ve got the piece of pussy you think you own.”
“You’re a fucking dead man,” I seethe, adding pressure to the trigger.
“You don’t want to fucking do that,” he says, slightly moving his hand with the gun in it so it’s now pointed at the side of Chiara’s head. “She just tried and missed. I guess operating a gun with broken ribs and a concussion isn’t optimal. It’s okay, I’ll make her beg for forgiveness later with my cock shoved down her throat.”
“I suggest you stop talking about my wife like that.” I should just pull the trigger, but I’m worried that he’ll do the same and then I’ll lose the love of my life—and life without her is no longer an option. She’s my North Star.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he says, waving the gun around. “I’ve heard the news. You married her. I can’t say I’m not mad about it, but I’m back for her now. And whether we leave alive or dead, I’m not leaving without her. She’s fucking mine!” he roars.
“We’re coming. Keep him talking,” comes a voice over my earpiece.
“She’s not going to be much good to you dead,” I say, taking a new tack. I am a fucking lawyer after all.
“And you’re not going to be much good as a lawyer if you’re dead,” he retorts. “Did you like my video message? I always did get Mia and Chiara confused,” he leers. “How is Mia?”
“I think you know the answer to that,” I say simply. “I’m still baffled what good you thought it would do to distribute the filmof the woman you say you wanted to be your wife. Doesn’t seem like a very husband-to-be thing to do,” I tsk.
