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I take a second. Steel myself against the door. My blood is raging, my breath tight in my chest.
Use your thinking brain, I tell myself. Not your anger brain. There has to be something you can use to leverage the door…
And then I hear it. A single sharp, shrill cry.
Fuck it.
I take out my sidearm and shoot the lock. It pings loudly in the enclosed space. Then I use every ounce of strength in me and slam my body weight into the door.
The rusted hinges crack and splinter. The door—and I—go flying forward. I spill onto the cellar, stumbling over the old door.
What I see when I break through, however, my brain is having trouble processing.
Raphael is on the floor, groaning. Something sticks out from his chest.
Is that…a corkscrew?
Finley is half standing, half bracing herself against the table. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes wide. She looks like a small fox, paw caught in a bear trap.
When she looks at me, those honey eyes are wild. She’s trying to decide: fight or flee?
She’s empty-handed. I have a gun. I know my protocol.
I’ve been trained to protect Raphael Rossi, by any means necessary.
“Archer!” he blubbers, half propped up against the wine shelf, clutching his chest. “She’s stabbed me! The bitch stabbed me! Get her!”
“Finley.” I say her name, but she doesn’t respond. She’s frozen in place, her mouth open, eyes locked on Raphael.
“Finley.” I repeat her name with more force, and this time, she lifts her eyes to meet mine.
His gaze slices through my heart like razor wire. It’s the same helpless, lost expression I saw when I first found her, nearly a decade ago.
I step closer. I extend my hand. “Take my hand.”
She obeys, fitting her soft hand into mine. I guide her to step around Raphael’s form. Away from him. To the staircase.
“Where the hell are you going?” he snaps. “What are you doing? Help me!”
My hand goes to the small of her back. I propel her forward—she doesn’t need to see this.
I close the door—and Raphael—behind us.
12
ARCHER
There is no going back from this.
Finley has attacked Raphael Rossi, little prince of the Rossi empire. Whatever relationship Finley had with the Rossis before is nullified now. Raphael is an untouchable golden child.
They’ll kill her for this. Or worse. I don’t want to think about worse.
Right now, I have one task and one task only:
Get Finley the hell out of here.
We take the passageway to her room. Through the walls, I can hear feet pounding down the main staircase. No doubt, Jacobi and whatever hired hands are left at this late hour.
