“Oh.My. God!” Jane giggles, polishing the last of the fourth glass of red. “Get this! Athemedwedding!”
“Yes!” Luna claps, spilling more wine down her cleavage. Those stains might not come out. Pity, her dress is stunning. “How about Disney? You could be Belle!”
I burst out laughing. “That makes Dante the Beast.”
“Well, he kind of is, isn’t he?” Bianca wiggles her eyebrows. She’s been asking inappropriate questions about our sex life for the last half an hour. “Oh, come on! You’re such a prude! Give me something! Is he rough? I bet he likes it hard. I bet he eats pussy like a pro!”
I bite the inside of my cheek, toying with the glass. Is this what girl talk is usually like? I’ve never had a group of girlfriends. The learning curve is real.
Our childish giggles are cut short at the sound of tires squealing and metal bending outside. Despite the closed, bulletproof windows, the commotion that just erupted out front floods the house as if the chaos is happening two rooms away. A blend of different voices screams orders for a few seconds before a round of gunshots rumbles above all else.
My legs turn weak. Dread fills my lungs like cold mud.
“Are those gunshots?!” Luna cries, eyes wide and tearful.
Cai’s still here, securing the house, while Dante’s at Delta with the V brothers and Julij. Nate went home an hour ago, and I guess he’s the one Bianca tries to reach, pressing a cell phone to her ear.
“Get back to Dante’s!” she yells a second later, catching me off-guard. I didn’t expect her to send Nate back here where he might get hurt. “Something’s wrong. Go back there, someone’s shooting outside!”
“If anything happens, hide, Star. Understood?”
Dante’s words bounce in my head, but Luna’s tearful gaze has me running to the nearest window overlooking the driveway. Dante’s men back away toward the house, shooting at a black van that battered down the gate. Its back door stands open. A man dressed in black fires a series of shots from a machine gun bolted to the van’s floor.
I scan the driveway, searching for Cai and Spades to check if they’re okay, but before I spot them, a movement behind a row of bushes on the left side of the house catches my eye. In the mayhem of bullets flying in all directions and a disorderly rumble of screams, no one noticed a group of men running toward the back of the house.
The van is just a diversion.
I spin on my heel, rooted to the spot. My mind is going as fast as my heart slamming against my ribs like the kickback of a gun. The sounds become muffled, distant, an unclear obbligato of blood whooshing in my ears. I stare at the glass wall on the other side of the living room. My reflection stares back at me, and the clock ticks slower and louder.
Two hands slam on the glass. I nearly jump right out of my heels. The gunshots become louder, and my breaths shorter, faster. Bianca’s panicked voice hits my ears, but I can’t make out words. Whoever’s outside takes a step closer. A hooded silhouette like a modern-day reaper. The only thing standing between us is a sheet of bulletproof glass.
“Layla!” The high-pitched shrill of Luna’s voice cuts through the haze. “What’s happening?!”
I don’t answer. Blood in my veins turns to cherry slurpy as I watch the hooded reaper raise a saw—the kind firemen use— and press it against the glass. I hope it won’t work, but the blade penetrates the glass without a hitch. The man tramps down, cutting a vertical line to create a doorway.
My heart leaps to my throat. All my instincts rebel against such an effortless acceptance of death. I run back inside the kitchen. “Cai’s okay. Someone’s trying to get inside.”
“Hide!” Jane screams. “Now, Layla!”
I take two steps at a time, slamming all doors shut behind me until I burst into the bedroom and halt in front of the armored door to the walk-in-wardrobe. My fingers hover over the keypad on the right, but I fall short of tapping the digits.
I can’t lock myself in there defenseless. If whoever’s coming brought tools to break through bulletproof glass, it’s wise to assume they have tools that’ll penetrate the steel door.
From the nightstand on Dante’s side of the bed, I retrieve his spare gun and flip the safety with trembling fingers. Memories of the last time I held a gun threaten to weigh me down. For a second, my mind just blanks.
The code to the door plays hide and seek inside my mind. I can’t focus among the chaos of bullets flying outside, and my concentration is put to the test when the sounds become louder. Whoever was trying to barge inside did.
“Here-kitty-kitty-kitty. Come out, come out wherever you are!” Resonates throughout the house.
Fear tries to choke me. My mind ceases to work, to stay in the moment, to focus on the task. Heavy footsteps on the stairs elevate my panic to the nth degree. A click of the alarm being disarmed sounds above the anarchy happening all around. The front door slams against the wall: the onlybangthat fills me with a sense of relief.
Four digits pop into my head, and I burst inside the walk-in-wardrobe, slamming the door behind me, and backing into the corner. I slide down the wall, aiming at the closed door as I force even, deep breaths into my lungs. The one thing keeping me sane right now is that Dante’s on his way. I can feel it in my bones.
He’s coming.
He’s close.
He’ll be here soon, and I’ll live to fight another day. The thought calms me down right until more shots ring close by. The unruly riot of my pulse starts again when three bullets smash against the metal door, forcing my back to press further into the wall as if I can fuse myself with the concrete.