Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
The SUV spins into gear and the engine roars, barely audible over the racket. The guys keep shooting, lighting everything up as it pulls away. The house is a wreck of bullet holes and shattered glass, and someone inside is whining like a dying cat. Probably the woman. I can’t spare time for her. Fynn’s car is a nightmare, like it was melted down. When the SUV is gone, I run down and fling open the driver’s side door, heart racing, terrified of what I’ll find.
Fynn’s on the floor, curled in a ball, covered in blood.
My hands shake as pull him out. He’s bleeding from a couple wounds, chest, shoulder, abdomen, I touch them with trembling fingers. Fuck, it’s bad. His eyelids flutter, he’s half awake. “Casso,” he groans. It’s really bad.
“You’re okay,” I say, putting pressure on the wounds. I need a hospital. I need doctors. “I got you. You’re gonna be okay.” I might be lying. I don’t know. I have to save him, I have to, my brother’s dying and I have to do something right now.
But his eyes are glassy and pale.
I get him into the back. It takes all my fucking strength and he groans as I do it. Natalie stands in the doorway, gaping at me, apparently alive and uninjured, looking around at the destruction of her house. Once Fynn’s secure, I slam the doors, start the engine—fucking works, thank God—and peel out, driving like a madman for the Phoenix Medical Center, about six miles from here. The wheels shoot up sparks. To hell with them and everything.
“Hang on, Fynn,” I say through gritted teeth. “Hang the fuck on.”
I blow through stoplights, nearly get in accidents, but I’ll die before I let my brother go.
Chapter 18
Olivia
The hospital’s a fluorescent nightmare. Antiseptic smell wafts in every time the doors open. The waiting room feels packed: Karah, Nico, Gavino, Elise, Casso, and me. Baby Antonio’s at home with the nannies. Everyone’s frayed and on edge. Elise keeps buying soft drinks and handing them out. Nobody wants them. Doctors come and go with no news. Fynn’s been in surgery for a couple hours.
I squeeze Casso’s hand. We sit apart from the others in the back corner. He’s got scratches all over, abrasions on his hands and knees, and a long, jagged cut down one shoulder. A nurse wanted to take a look and he cursed her out, said she’d better spend her time saving his brother’s life. Nobody’s checked on him since except for me. I think he’ll live.
“It was Danil,” Casso says quietly, staring at the floor. I shift closer and squeeze his hand tighter. “The whole thing was a wild goose chase. It was a setup from the beginning.”
“What are you talking about?” I’m a wreck myself: my stomach’s in a twist and I’m so scared for Casso. “If he wanted to set you up, why not do it when you came to negotiate the first time?” I don’t know Fynn well, but I don’t want him to die, not even a little bit, if only to spare Casso from the pain of losing a sibling. Something I went through, and something I don’t want anyone else to experience.
“She told me it was Danil.” This is the most Casso’s talked since I arrived at the hospital. He’s been practically nonresponsive for most of the day. “The witness. She told me the whole thing. Danil pressured her into testifying against Mickey. I bet Danil got her husband to steal those guns. It’s all an elaborate trap.”
“I don’t understand,” I say, shaking my head.
His face is pained. “Danil wants that club, but it’s not about just that. He tried to kill me today. He tried to kill my brother.” His voice breaks as he looks up at me with utter rage and pain in his eyes. “I’m going to ruin him, Olivia. I can’t let him live now, you understand?”
“I know,” I say, leaning against him, and fear bubbles in my stomach. The promise he made is long gone. I’m terrified, afraid of what’s going to happen, fear for Casso and Fynn and everyone else in the family. There’s a war coming, and I know how these wars go.
A doctor comes in and everyone sits straighter. Middle-aged, hairy arms, blue scrubs. A sheen of sweat on his forehead and a floral bandana over his hair. He adjusts his glasses. “Are you all Fynn Bruno’s family?”
Casso stands, releasing my hand. I wish he wouldn’t. “Yes, doctor, we’re his family.” He moves forward. “Is my brother okay?”
The doctor nods once, looking grim. “We stabilized him. The wounds were serious, but you got him here fast. He’s not awake, and I honestly don’t know when he’ll regain consciousness. We have a lot to talk about.”
“Can I see him?” Casso doesn’t sound relieved. If anything, he’s struggling.