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“Valentine lied about me going to the police station,” I stumble out. “He followed me from the cabin to my apartment. I wasn’t going to tell anyone what happened, I was just…”
“Just what?”
“Saying goodbye,” I say, cringing at how pathetic it sounds. “To my old life.”
“I was going to leave town right after, but those guys were waiting for me in the parking garage. I swear, I—”
“Okay.” Settimo raises a hand. “I believe you.”
“Are you going to kill me?” I shudder just from saying it aloud. My palms flatten against the column, and I brace myself for Settimo’s response.
He frowns and shakes his head. “I trust my brother.” he sighs. “Even when I don’t agree with him.”
I’m too relieved to be pissed about what a blatant asshole he is for saying right to my face that he thinks Lorenzo should’ve killed me. My eyes close and I let out a long breath.
Settimo grabs my arm, and my eyes snap open. “Let’s go,” he says, nodding toward the stairwell.
We start that way, Settimo standing tall with a confident gate and me wobbly. My face hurts from the earlier punch, and I must have a concussion or something. I’ve never had vertigo like this.
We descend the stairs, and all the men are still waiting for us. Settimo gestures for his men to start leaving. He gives Valentine a glance but doesn’t slow.
“I’m afraid we won’t be able to negotiate after all,” Settimo says with thinly veiled disgust. “Good luck sorting things out with Lorenzo.”
“What?” Valentine asks, gripping my other arm as we walk past. I’m halted, the two men holding onto me like I’m a tug-of-war rope.
Settimo spins and glares at Valentine. “Let go,” he growls.
Valentine’s nostrils flare, but he reluctantly releases me. We begin walking again. Two of Settimo’s men wait for him to pass before falling into stride behind us.
A gun cocks, and Settimo stops abruptly. I bump into his back and turn around just in time for him to shove me aside.
Gunfire bursts and fills the empty space, echoing off the walls. I instinctively jump to the floor while more shots fire, and my eyes find Settimo. He’s cupping his stomach while blood oozes through his fingertips. His face is pinched in pain, but he manages to get his gun and aim it at Valentine.
Blondie hurries to Settimo and kicks the gun from his hand. Settimo howls in pain when Blondie stomps on Settimo wound next.
All of Settimo’s men are on the ground. One groaning, three not making any sound.
I spot two out of five of Valentine’s men still standing. The rest litter the ground with the other bodies.
It all happened so fast.
One of Valentine’s guys left standing shrieks. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Shut up,” Valentine says. He takes menacing steps toward Settimo. Blondie points a gun at the groaning man’s head, and I close my eyes before he pulls the trigger. I flinch at the blast.
I open my eyes to see Valentine standing above Settimo, his face twisted in murderous pleasure.
“You’re right,” he says. “We won’t be able to negotiate.”
“Fuck you,” Settimo spits. Blondie stomps on his wound again, and he howls.
“Take him to the car,” Valentine says. He looks at me. “Her too.”
“You don’t want to finish them now?” Blondie asks.
Valentine huffs and shakes his head, his disgusting eyes never leaving me. “We’re not done with them yet. Not until Lorenzo’s there to watch them die.”
