The second my feet hit the ground, I ram my fist into his face, catching him off guard. Momentarily stunned, he falls back, loosening his grip on me. I’m tempted to hit him again, but I know if we get into a serious physical altercation, I’ll lose eventually. I need to take advantage of his disorientation.
As he shakes his head, trying to regain his balance, I make a mad dash for freedom.
But he’s too fucking fast.
Within seconds, he’s on my heels, yanking my arms behind my back again. I jerk my head backward and feel the crown of my head connect with his face.
“Fuck!” He grunts, and I stomp hard on his insole, scraping my foot down his shin. He lets out another curse, and I run again, breath fogging in the cool air as I sprint for dear fucking life.
Adrenaline, fear, and panic make a mad cocktail of emotions fueling my dash. I don’t even know where I am, or where I’m going, but I weave back and forth slightly as I run all-out, trying to make myself a harder target for a bullet to hit.
But mid-stride, something wraps around my midsection, and I fall, chest slamming against the hard ground. The wounds in my side scream in protest as Brian flips me over and straddles me, pinning me with the weight of his body.
“Don’t move, Grace,” he pants, pulling the gun out of his waist. He smiles, pressing the barrel of the gun between my breasts, digging the hard metal into my skin through my shirt. “Jesus, you really are a pain in the ass. I wanted this to be simple. Easy.”
“Brian, please.” My voice is a breathless gasp. A wheeze. There’s a wild look in his eyes I’ve never seen before. Nothing about this man is familiar right now. “I’ll go with you, I promise—”
“Too fucking late, Grace.” He shakes his head, his lips pulling back. “I made a deal. I can’t back out of it now.” His eyes narrow. “Tell me, did you fuck all of them? Or just the leader? Did you spread your—”
Pop!
The shot comes from above me, and I scream in shock as a bullet slams into Brian’s chest. His body absorbs the impact, eyes going wide, face slackening. The blood pours from his chest onto my body, a sickeningly familiar sensation of warm liquid seeping through my clothes and onto my skin.
Then he topples over sideways, his limp body still half straddling me.
Two pairs of strong arms grasp me, pulling me away from Brian’s large form, and my heart stutters in my chest as familiar scents tease my nostrils.
Vanilla and citrus. Zaid and Lucas. They each hold an arm, helping me stand on legs that can barely support my weight.
“You…” I can’t speak. I don’t understand. “How…”
They saved me.
They could have let Brian kill me, but they saved me.
They came for me..
“Grace.” Hale's voice is drawn with emotion as he pulls me into his arms, pressing his body against mine as Ciro stands close by.
I go stiff, wait for the hateful words, the harsh rebukes. But they never come. He holds me in his arms until my heart finally begins to slow its desperate, terrified rhythm. His thick arms wrap tightly around my body, pinning me to his strong frame.
But for once, it doesn’t feel like a cage.
It feels like a shield.
His whispered words send a warm wave of comfort through my body, a sensation I never thought I would ever feel around him.
“I am so, so sorry…”
22
Grace
Ciro lifts me up onto the bathroom counter, planting me firmly onto the marble top. As always, I can’t read his expression—I don’t know if he’s upset with me, annoyed, or relieved that I’m not dead. And just as much as I can’t read him, I can’t even begin to sort through how I feel about the night’s events.
Brian tried to kill me.
Brian betrayed me.