Page 102 of Anton

Blyat. The need to kill him hits before the pain does.

I should’ve been paying better attention to my damn surroundings like I’ve been taught instead of concentrating on the way she was pressed against me and how badly I wanted to fuck her right here against this damn wall.

“Anton, you’re shot!”

Blood slides toward my wrist, but I ignore it, instead pushing her into the wall until I know the car is gone. No plates, of course. Whoever that was, it had to have been a pro. A shitty one, but a pro nonetheless. Wouldn’t be the first time one of us had a hit on him. Unless…

Unless he was after her.

My first instinct is to get in my car and hunt him down, but then her small hand closes around my wrist and leaving her is no longer an option. Not when the only thing that matters is keeping her safe.

It could have been her. He could’ve shot Thora. She could’ve fucking died.

Everything inside me goes black, the urge to destroy whoever did this consuming every thought. I cup her cheek. Her face is pale, eyes huge and full of fear.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” I look her up and down, not seeing any entry wounds, no blood except my own.

“I’m fine.” Her voice cracks. “We need to get you inside and have that wrapped before you go to the hospital.”

“I’m good.”

Her expression knots. “You’re not.”

“I said I’m fine.”

Irritation flashes in her eyes. “You were shot. That is the very definition of not fine.”

“It happens.”

A trace of dark satisfaction moves through me at the worry written across her face.

How much would she care if I died?

“It happens?” She tugs on my uninjured arm. “That is not an acceptable answer. Let’s get inside so I can stop the fucking bleeding, God damn it!”

My gaze scans the edge of the lot, every shadow and parked car, but there’s no one there this time.

My jaw locks as I return my focus to her. “What the hell were you thinking, trying to push me away so he could shoot you?”

Her face blanks. “It was instinct.”

“To sacrifice yourself for me?”

“Yes.” She shrugs.

I grab both sides of her face, fury entwining with obsession.

“Never. Do that. Again. I sacrifice myself for you, not the other way around.” My thumb brushes over her perfect lips.

“How about neither of us dies?” Her nails trail up and down my back. “I’m really enjoying this protective side of you, by the way. But maybe we can postpone it until you’re not actively bleeding on the concrete.”

“Good point.” I drop my arms off her. “Let me get you home.”

“Not until we get you bandaged up.” She takes my hand and starts trying to tug me toward the entrance.

When I don’t move, she gives me a hard stare.

“You’re losing blood. So it’s either I do it or I call 911. Your choice.”