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I cough to clear the dust from my throat. “My leg,” I croak. “It’s hurt.”
Luis drops his gaze.
I don’t know what comes over me.
Maybe it’s adrenaline. Maybe it’s self-preservation. Or maybe it’s the violence in my bloodline…
Whatever it is, I thank God Almighty for whatever propels me into action.
Because when Luis looks down to assess my alleged injury, he drops the hand holding his weapon into my reach, and I don’t hesitate. I grab his wrist with one hand and the gun with the other. With a twist taught to me by my college self-defense instructor, I make him release the weapon.
Then, without pause, I flip the weapon on him and pull the trigger.
The bullet flies into Luis’s abdomen, spraying me with blood.
The Puerto Rican gang member hovers above me—shocked by what just happened.
Seconds pass. Then, he finally stumbles back, clutching his wound with pure disbelief.
I push myself upright and shuffle back, watching his body sway. He mutters something in Spanish before dropping to his knees.
My entire body shakes, but I keep the gun trained on him. I’m not willing to take any chances that he’s acting.
Turns out, he isn’t.
Luis Diaz releases another string of words before he falls onto the filthy floor. A heavy exhale leaves his lips, and then he stops moving.
I’m not sure how much time passes. It could be seconds or minutes. But the sound of approaching footsteps forces my eyes off the man I murdered. The gun trembles as I lift it towards the newcomers, but I drop it the moment my eyes lock with a pair of forest-green irises that have starred in my dreams every night since the moment I first saw them.
Declan runs towards me. He wears a bulletproof vest over a t-shirt and thick, cargo pants. A team of men trail after him, but I don’t look at them. I only have eyes for my fiancé. And the fierce wound splitting his skin from temple to jawline.
Declan barks an order to one of his men to check Myles and another to search Luis for weapons just before he kneels on the ground next to me.
His eyes rove over my body from head to toe. “Are you hurt?”
His words sound garbled through my pounding ears. I manage to shake my head.
“There’s blood on your dress.”
“It’s not mine,” I croak.
He nods but continues assessing me for injuries. I let him. I don’t have the energy to dissuade him even if I wanted to. And God knows I don’t want to...
“You found me.”
His eyes return to mine. They soften. “Of course, I did.”
Fresh tears well in my eyes. “I-it was Ashley. She worked w-with Luis Diaz. He… he killed her.”
Declan’s nostrils flare. “There’s plenty of time to talk about that later. For now, we need to get out of here before the police arrive. Can you stand?”
“Police?” I ask as he helps me to my feet.
“Yes, they’ve been working on dismantling Luis’s organization for a while,” he reveals. “They’ll take responsibility for this mess to keep our families’ names out of the papers, but we need to be gone before they arrive.”
His words don’t make total sense, but now is not the time to ask for clarification.
Declan wraps an arm around my waist when my legs threaten to give out beneath me. He half-carries me back towards the stairwell.
