I move closer to Adrik, fueled by the thought that my family would betray me like that. Adrik has been smart and put something in place so that they can’t kill him, so killing me would be the only other option. Once I’m out of the picture, Don Pablo would turn against Adrik and remove him from power.
My feet move slowly, but I don’t take my eyes off of my brothers. I notice Thiago’s arm twitch and then I see the gun in his hand. I stop and look him right in the eye. “Are you going to kill me, brother?”
The answer is clear in his eyes before he even speaks. Thiago lifts the gun in his hand and points it at me. “I’m sorry, mija.” I stare at the barrel of my brother’s gun and realize I was an idiot to feel guilty about wanting to save Adrik, as my brothers would as easily turn on me.
I shut my eyes, unable to watch my death race toward me, placing my hand over my stomach, a sense of grief hitting me as I’ll never meet my baby. At only twenty-four years old, I’m certainly not ready to die, even after all the shit I’ve been through in just over a month. The clap of a gunshot sounds unbelievably loud in the small confines of the room, and I’m surprised when I don’t feel any pain. When I open my eyes, it feels like my brothers ripped apart my entire world.
“You fucking idiot,” Massimo growls, rushing toward Thiago. “He can’t die! Otherwise, we’ve got bigger problems than Adrik on our hands.”
Adrik is lying on the floor, staring up at me with a second hole in his abdomen, this time on the other side. It’s bleeding profusely, and the blood is making a pool on the floor.
Budimir is already by his side, tearing off part of his shirt and pressing it against the wound to stem the blood flow. “Hold on, sir. We’ll get you to a hospital.”
My heart pounds unevenly as I stare at him, wondering why he threw himself in front of a bullet for me. Is it purely out of his desire to protect his claim? Surely that is of no use to him if he’s dead.
The hope I’d felt the first time they shot my husband is no longer there. Now all I feel is terror that I’m going to lose him. I drop to my knees on the other side of him, tears pooling in my eyes. “Adrik, what did you do?”
He smiles up at me, but it’s weak. “Hey, baby girl.”
“Why did you throw yourself in front of the bullet?”
He grabs my hand, squeezing. “Because you’re my wife and despite what you might think, I care about you a great deal.”
I arch a brow, but can feel hope rising inside of me. “You do?”
He nods, but then winces at the effort. “I love you, Eliza. In my own twisted, fucked up way.” His nostrils flare as Budimir increases the pressure on the wound. “It may not seem like it to you, but it’s the truth.”
A pain claws at my throat as I told him he’d never claim my heart. That he’d have to carve it from my chest, and yet I think he’s already got it in the palm of his hand. Tears pool in my eyes as I gaze down at the beautiful, misunderstood monster who I feel something for. Whether it’s love, I can’t be sure.
The toxicity of our relationship and the way it started makes it hard to believe that’s what this is. Adrik took me against my will and yet I want him. I want him with every fiber of my being, and it makes me feel sick. “You need to survive this,” I say.
He swallows hard and shuts his eyes. “I’ll try. Budimir, get Eliza out of here now.”
I shake my head, clutching onto his hand. “I’m not leaving you.”
Adrik’s jaw clenches. “They tried to kill you. Who is to say they won’t try again?” His voice is quiet so he can’t be overheard. “They don’t want me dead.” He glances at Budimir. “Get her out. Meet me at the hospital.”
I don’t want to let go of his hand, even though I know what he’s saying is true. My brothers will try again if they want me dead. Budimir bows his head like the dutiful and loyal servant he is, and in the commotion, while everyone is shouting at each other, he sweeps me out of the room and toward the exit of the casino.
“What if he doesn’t make it?”
Budimir’s expression turns grave. “Then we have far worse problems than a war. He named Andrei Petrov as his heir.”
I arch a brow. “The pakhan of the bratva in New York.”
“That’s the man.”
I don’t ask why on earth he’d do that, allowing Budimir to get me out of the casino before anyone notices we’re gone. “How do we know they’ll get him to a hospital?”
“Because they would much rather have to deal with Adrik than with Andrei Petrov.” He yanks me out of the door hurriedly and down a side alley where a black van is parked. As we approach, the side door slides open.
“Get in,” Budimir orders.
I swallow hard as I glance at the handful of armed men sitting in the back, memories of the day Adrik killed Papá resurfacing.
“How will we know what hospital they take him to?”
A siren echoes in the distance.