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"It's fine. Come on."
"Your leg--"
"Stop." His voice was sharp, commanding. I fell silent. "I'll be fine. We need to get you somewhere safe."
"But--"
"Emilia Russo, if you don't fucking move, I'm going to throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of here. And that's not gonna do my leg any favors." Alfie's grip on my arm was iron, his green eyes blazing, but they softened when he saw my fear. "Trust me, sweetheart. Okay?"
I nodded. "Okay."
"Good girl. Now come on, before your brothers decide to circle back around."
We didn't talk. Alfie limped beside me, his grip on my arm tightening. My mind was racing. Angel had shot him. Alfie was bleeding. We'd barely made it off the train in time. If either one of them had recognized me--
Alfie stumbled.
"Come on," he bit out. He didn't slow down. I slipped an arm around his waist to take some of his weight. Alfie grunted inpain, but he didn't protest. His breathing was ragged and sweat beaded along his brow despite the cool night air.
The temperature had dropped, all hint of summer gone. The streets were empty. We were only a few blocks from the bookstore, but I didn't know what to do. Lorenzo's men patrolled these streets, and if they caught us, they'd kill him. I wouldn’t be able to talk my way out of this.
"It's okay," I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking. I wanted to believe it. I wanted to believe that he would be okay. That we would be okay. "I think I have a first aid kit in the bookstore. Somewhere. I can get you patched up. We'll be fine."
"I think it's going to take...a bit more than that," Alfie grunted. He stopped, swaying on his feet, and I turned to face him, my heart sinking at the pained look on his face. "I'm sorry."
"What? No! Come on, we're almost there."
Now I was the one trying to pull him down the street. Alfie's knees buckled, and he sank to the sidewalk behind a dumpster. The ground was filthy, but I dropped to the ground beside him anyway, my hands fluttering uselessly around where his own were clamped around his thigh. There was so much blood.
"Alfie?"
His gaze was unfocused, face ashen. He gave me a wan smile. "Go."
"I'm not leaving you."
"You have to. They're going to be looking for you sooner or later."
"No, I don't." I dug my phone out of my pocket. "I'm calling an ambulance."
Alfie shook his head and gripped my wrist with surprising strength. His green eyes were glassy. "You can't. Hospitals ask questions. I've got somebody I can call, but you need to go."
"I'm not leaving you." I couldn't leave him. The thought of it sent terror clawing up my throat. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I tried to blink them away. "Please."
Alfie lifted a hand and brushed his thumb across my cheek. It came away wet. "Emilia, listen--"
"Emilia?"
If it was possible for my heart to cease beating, it would have. I would have known that voice anywhere. "Emilia, is that--holy shit."
I turned and looked up at Sofia, frozen in the mouth of the alley and looking down at us, horrified. Her eyes darted from me to Alfie, and back again. I saw the pieces falling into place, the realization dawning in her eyes.
"I can explain," I said weakly, but before I could even try, Luca appeared beside her, his face paling as he took in the scene.
"What the hell is going on here?"
Luca's voice was uncharacteristically cold, and he glanced between us, his eyes narrowing as he took in the blood, the oversized sweatshirt I was wearing, the Gaelic tattoos on Alfie's knuckles. Alfie had slumped against the wall, his eyes closed and head lolling to the side.
Luca knelt next to him, pressed two fingers against the pulse in Alfie's neck, and spoke low and fast. "Dom just called, he and Angel are on their way over here. They're looking for you."
