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“You can’t stay here.”
“I will until we find the girl.”
“I can find her myself.”
“You need our help for a reason, let me do my job.”
We’re in a whisper match that I can’t win, so I shake my head and pull out my gun, cocking it out cautiously just in case anyone from the Bratva has already broken inside.
He pulls his .225 out, and we take cautious steps, checking our surroundings as we do, until we’re at a staircase. If this leads to the top of the steps where the main foyer is, I could guess where Espie’s room is. She stomped up there the night we fought on the front porch. The night I came for dinner.
“Stairs.” I nod to them, and he nods back, following me up until we’ve reached a level that looks dark and windowless. I trail down the hallways, dragon tattoo on my heels, and then we turn a corner. A light beams at the end of it, so we continue on until we’re at an intersection.
Double doors to our slight right, long hallway to our left and straight ahead another dark hallway. I look between them and then decide that the left seems approximately where the foyer would be, so I move in that direction. The further we get down the hall, the more easily I can hear gunshots. They grow louder until we’re out in the open foyer. I stop at the curvature of the stairs because Vince is yelling just beyond them, behind closed doors that, I assume, are his office.
He may be on the phone or disputing something with backup for what’s going on outside. Either way, he might be the best shot at fixing this, so I want to warn him first, want to tell him I’ve got backup.
I lower my gun and make my way to the doors where his voice is echoing from, and then I hear heavy footsteps coming around the corner accompanied by gunshots.
“Get behind me.” Dragon tattoo yells, and I do. I leap behind him quicker than I’ve ever moved, cocking my gun around the side of him like he’s a barricade.
A blood-curdling yell gurgles beyond us as the footsteps grow, and then they pause.
“Dragon? What are you doing here? The boss didn’t—“ Dragon tattoo, apparently named Dragon, shoots whoever is beyond him. The Bratva guy hits the floor with a thud, strangled noises like they're choking on their own blood continue before he takes another shot, and then they stop.
“Dead.” Dragon declares as more footsteps approach.
“Go.” He orders me, but I don’t move, so he says it again, only this time it’s booming; I run towards the doors, tugging them as fast as I can. Another shot goes off, and this time the bullet whistles past my ear, pinging off the doors in front of me. Bullet resistant wood.
I pull at the handles again as Dragon shoots at his new attackers, but they won’t budge.
“Vincenzo!” I yell, banging on the doors. “I know you’re in there.” Nothing. It’s silent.
“Gaaaah!” I growl, pounding my fists on them before turning back around to see Dragon in a fist fight with five men. He doesn’t notice me anymore. His eyes are darker, more alert for anything coming against him, but he does not have time to tell me what to do.
I bolt up the stairs instinctually just as someone grabs my heel and pulls me backwards, knocking the wind out of me as my ribs hit the marble stairs before my chin. With my caliber still in hand, I reach behind me and fire without looking as I regain my breath. The hand still drags me, so I know I’ve missed, and then a searing pain slices against my calf. He’s cutting me, blood is oozing from my leg, soaking my already ripped skinny jeans and ripping them some more.
I turn around to see he’s continuing to drag me— Barth is dragging me down the steps, knife in hand, eyes furious and unwavering. The way they always look right before he kills.
Chapter Thirty Two:Espie
Somehow,I’ve managed to pull myself up off the floor and make it to the nook at the base of my windows overlooking the gardens. The storm must have knocked over things because it looks crazy outside. Mostly I force myself away from this reality and right to the pages of this book.
It’s a historical romance—castles and snowstorms and brooding heroes, all the things I shouldn’t be reading right now. All the things that make me think of Adrik. I’m so lost in it that it takes me a moment to react when my door busts open and a black-suited man approaches me. I know by his face covering that he’s with the Bratva, and he does not look like he’s broken into my room to have a pleasant conversation with me. I close my book, about to scream, but he shoots across the room, covering my mouth and wrapping his arms around me.
He pulls me out of my room and I try to make noise, but he tightens his grip on my mouth. I’m kicking now, thrashing more like it, heart beating out of my chest, adrenalin pumping to tell me to fight back.
I would if I could, but they’re too strong and too determined to drag me down the hallway. We’re getting further from the foyer and I know Vince is in his office. If I can scream loud enough, someone will come to my aid— if not Vince, then one of the boys.
What the hell is even happening? How did he get in here in the first place? If security has been compromised, it’s likely that I will not get help and these could be my last moments. Tears stream down my face as I begin to give up, but then a thought surges through me as I relax my body.
I’m not ready to die— though broken and ruined, I am not worthless.
With all of my might, I bite down on the man's hand, and he whips it away, dropping me onto my back. The second I hit the floor, I scream at the top of my lungs, and that’s when I hear the gunshots and when the masked man swings me over his shoulder and runs around the corner.
“Let me go!” I beat on his back and kick my legs wildly until he sits me down and pulls off his mask. I lose my breath when I see Adrik. Busted lip, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead the way that always makes my heart leap, and finger raised for me to shut the fuck up. I nod, though I have so many questions as the sound of bullets pinking off one of the walls, closest to me, grows louder as they get closer.
“What the fuck is happening?” I whisper, and he shakes his head, so I don’t say anything more as he reloads his gun and takes a couple of shots from around the corner. A few fire-back shots sound off as he dodges them, and everything I hate about this man in front of me is gone. I don’t want him to die, and could cry thinking about it.
