Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
“Get the fuck away from her, Guerra,” my brother spat.
Whatever weird bubble I’d been in burst and everything around me filtered in once more. I glanced across the room to where Renzo stood in front of the window, a gun pointed at…Guerra? Giovanni Guerra? My brother’s free hand was pressed to his stomach, where blood pooled through his fingers. Another man seemed to materialize from the shadows by the door and had a weapon rammed to my brother’s temple in an instant.
“Don’t get excited,” the newcomer said.
“Please don’t hurt him,” I stammered, pushing to my feet and fighting to stay there as the room warped and spun around me. “Just… just kill me but leave Renzo.”
“No, Emi,” Renzo practically snarled.
I looked to the one who was clearly in charge. The dark angel. The man I was supposed to marry. “Please.”
His head tilted to the side, those eyes giving away nothing before he waved a hand at his companion. The other man took away Renzo’s gun and dragged him outside. Deep down, I knew they’d find me and potentially kill me from the second I got into that car, so why had I bothered running? Because you had to try, a little voice whispered in the back of my mind.
“Come.” One word, the only one he’d uttered since entering this room. It felt like a rumble of thunder in a summer storm, like static in the air promising chaos.
He took a firm hold of my arm, guiding me around the three bodies littering the motel room floor and outside into the parking lot. As adrenaline waned, I stumbled and swayed, but his grip never faltered. I was led to a waiting SUV, my brother leaning heavily against it, a red-haired guy beside him. Renzo’s gaze met mine, and he gave the smallest of nods before he mouthed, “run.” I wasn’t going to leave him—I didn’t get a chance to think on it before he threw a punch at the guy. I didn’t want to leave him. Couldn’t. They’d kill him.
“Run, Emi!” he shouted just as the guy hit him back.
The edge in Renzo’s voice threw me into a blind panic, and I drove my knee between Giovanni’s legs. I barely saw him double over before my feet were moving of their own volition. I turned and sprinted across the parking lot, tripping and stumbling as hot tears poured down my cheeks.
“Emilia!” Giovanni shouted after me.
Just fifty yards and I’d make it to the woods behind the motel. The sound of the gunshot was enough to make me stop, fear for my brother overriding everything. But then the pain registered, fire tearing through my thigh before my leg buckled. I hit the ground and glanced down at the blood rapidly soaking through my jeans. The pain was like a hot poker being rammed through my leg, and a desperate sob slipped through my lips as shoes crunched over the gravel and came to a stop beside me.
“The next time I have to chase you, it won’t end well, princess.” Giovanni gripped my arm and wrenched me to my feet with a cry. “Now, be a good girl before I put a bullet in your brother’s head.”
I whimpered and limped to the car, every step a lesson in agony. My head spun, and black spots dotted my vision as I climbed into the back seat.
Renzo was already there, gasping breaths pouring from him almost as easily as the blood that covered his stomach and soaked into his jeans. Giovanni got into the passenger seat beside the red-haired guy.
“He needs a doctor, Gio,” the man said before focusing out the windshield and pulling away.
“I’ll have one at the jet.”
Renzo was panting, his face pale and clammy. Gently, I tugged him down until his head rested on my uninjured thigh, his distant gaze fixed on the ceiling. With a trembling hand, I stroked his sweat-damp hair and prayed to anyone who would listen not to let him die. But there was so much blood. I tugged my T-shirt over my head and wadded it up, pressing it into his stomach.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
He had taken a bullet because of me, and if he died, I’d never forgive myself. He grasped my hand, slick fingers threading through mine, and it terrified me.
“You’re fine,” I said, my voice cracking under the words I didn’t really believe. “You’ll be okay.”
Blood was spreading across the back seat. Mine and Renzo’s combined, and the sight of it had a sob catching in my chest. Too much. It was too much.
He made a choked sound, and I squeezed his hand harder.
“He needs a hospital. Please!”
Giovanni glanced over his shoulder at me. “He’ll be fine.” That was it; then he started making calls on his phone.
I had never hated anyone as much as I hated him in that moment. But I was helpless to do anything, and that meant I might have to watch my brother die.