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Frozen in fear, I can’t bring myself to look as I hunch down in my chair, leaning as far away from my ensnared hand as possible. Another deafening rapport fills the space, and then another. And suddenly, chaos surrounds me as men shout and dive for cover.
The pressure on my hand releases at the same moment as something hot and wet spatters my cheek and chest, bringing me back to my senses. I turn to try and make sense of the scene around me, and my eyes grow wide. Alexia’s open, unseeing eyes stare up at me as blood oozes from a wound in his neck. I flinch as bullets ping and ricochet around me, each shot drilling into my ears with deafening force.
Troy’s panicked shouts call from behind the table that had once been covered with torture devices and is now upturned to serve as a meager shield. Curling in on myself, I try to make my body as small as possible as bullets fly by me in either direction. Something heavy falls behind me–one of their bodyguards, I would guess–quickly followed by the screams of what I can only imagine is the younger Gatti brother dying painfully.
The gunfire slows, and then I hear a deep grunt followed by an immediate ceasefire. Only then do I dare unfold my body enough to look around the back of my chair and find the two burly bodyguards who had restrained me lying dead in a pool of their own blood.
Uncontrollable shivers rack my body as my mind tries to process what just happened. For an instant, I wonder if I’m not going into shock after losing a finger. But when I buck up enough courage to look down at my hand, all my digits are still attached.
The fresh commotion draws my gaze to the side entrance the Gatti brothers brought me through as a wave of utter panic consumes me. And then I see Nicolo. How he knew to come for me–let alone how to find me–I have no clue. But overwhelming relief leaves me dizzy.
“Are you alright?” Nicolo demands as he kneels in front of me, pulling my makeshift gag from my mouth.
Behind him, his two bodyguards fan out, their guns still raised as they check the men for pulses and search the warehouse for any others.
My ears ring with the residual effects of the bullets shot in such an enclosed space, and I can barely make out Nicolo’s words as my eyes follow his lips. Buzzing numbness tingles across my skin as I try to make sense of his question.Am I alright?I don’t know.
Nicolo’s hands and eyes examine me gently, wiping at the liquid that’s now starting to cake on my face and chest. “Did they hurt you?” he persists.
Fighting to break through the fog of numbness, I shake my head to tell him what he really wants to know. I’m not seriously injured. I can see the relief wash across his face, and the hint of a smile pulls at his proud lips.
“Well, little bird. What do you think about my violence now?” he asks, gesturing to Alexia’s deathly still body. “Does it still sicken you?”
I know he’s teasing me, calling back to the night he broke Troy’s arm, but as the full weight of what just happened comes crashing down on me, I burst into tears. Overwhelmed with emotion, I sob, my breaths rasping in and out of my lungs that burn with renewed intensity after I screamed so loudly in fear that I left them raw.
Nicolo’s face falls, all humor fleeing as he gently cups my face in his hands, his thumbs wiping away my tears as quickly as they fall. “Shh, you’re alright, Anya. It’s over. You’re safe. Shh,” he soothes. “I won’t ever let anyone hurt you,” he promises adamantly.
His fingers leave my face to reach for the cruel knife that lies beside Alexia’s hand, and I shudder violently as it gleams in the fluorescent lighting. Nicolo cautiously slides the blade between the chair and my wrists, cutting through my bindings with ease and freeing me from my imprisonment.
The tingling relief of blood pumping its way back out to the tips of my fingers makes my hands tingle, and I massage my wrists as Nicolo stoops to cut the ropes tying my ankles to the chair.
I don’t know when they arrived, but as Nicolo scoops me up effortlessly into his arms, I notice for the first time around ten other men, all dressed in fine Italian suits standing near the warehouse entrance. Some look out, as if to keep watch. Others sweep the area for any lingering danger.
“I’ll leave this for you boys to clean up,” Nicolo says authoritatively as he carries me toward the door, cradling me close to his chest.
I let him, wrapping one arm around his shoulders to help support my weight, but I’m sure if he tried to set me on my feet, my legs would be too weak to stand. Armed men escort us to his sleek black Maserati, and I don’t know why that particular detail shocks me. Still, I’m surprised to find Nicolo drove here himself. With all the men apparently at his disposal, I supposed it would have been just as easy for him to have handed my rescue over to them.Why didn’t he?
Carefully easing me into the passenger seat, Nicolo ensures I’m fully inside the car before closing the door and rounding the front of the vehicle to get into the driver’s side. The Maserati purrs to life, and then we’re on our way, the warehouse where I almost died, fading into the distance like smoke from a fire disappearing into the sky.
“How… how did you find me?” I ask, my words coming out in a whisper when I finally find my voice.
“The car I sent for you. They were just around the corner and saw you get into the Gattis’ car. They followed you to the warehouse and alerted me to the location.”
Well, that explains a lot. Deep gratitude for their astute observation and quick action warms me. I owe those men my life. But then my brow presses into a frown as another question occurs to me.
“But then, how didyouget here so quickly?” Even if those men had called Nicolo right away when they saw me taken, he would have been somewhere else entirely, probably at whatever location he was supposed to meet me. His reaction time must have been quite fast.
Nicolo shrugs casually. “This car was built for getting from one place to another in the blink of an eye,” he says lightly.
My eyes grow round as I consider that. It took my captors and me what felt like a considerable amount of time to get to the warehouse, and we weren’t particularly going slow. Nicolo must have been flying to make up for lost time.
“Thank you,” I breathe as my emotions overwhelm me once more.
In response, Nicolo simply reaches across the console and takes my hand in his, enveloping my icy fingers in his warmth.
In what feels like no time at all, we’re back in the city. I register my surroundings for the first time in the dim light of the evening as Nicolo pulls into the underground garage of his penthouse.
“You’re not taking me home?” I ask in surprise as I turn to face him.
