Three SUVs . No plates . No mercy .
" Drive like you stole it , principessa."
Alessio's voice was steel wrapped in silk . Blood soaked the passenger seat under him . His left hand pressed hard against his side where the stitches had torn . His right hand slapped a fresh clip into the Moretti's gun .
I slammed my foot down .
The engine screamed . We fishtailed out of the hospital parking lot , tired smoking. Red and blue lights still flashed behind us from the Code Silver . Cops everywhere . Not our problem .
The SUVs were .
" Faster," he said . Not a request .
Ninety . Ninety-five . The speedometer needle shook . My hands were locked on the wheel at ten and two like my dad taught me when I was sixteen . Dad .
Don't think about him . Just drive .
The first SUV surged up on our left . Tinted windows. The back window rolled down .
" Down!" Alessio roared .
I ducked .
Pop . Pop . Pop.
Silenced shots punched through the driver's side window. Glass exploded . It rained over my hair , my shoulders . One hard sliced the cheek . I felt the hot sting ,then nothing . Adrenaline's a hell of a drug .
Alessio didn't duck . He twisted in his seat , hung halfway out the shattered window , and fired back . One-handed . Weak . Dying . Still the Don .
Boom .
The SUVs front tire blew . It swerved , clipped a parking car , and spun out in a shower of sparks .
" One," Alessio said . Blood bubbled at the corner of his mouth . He wiped it with his thumb . " Two to go ."
I couldn't answer. My throat was locked. I'd killed a man twenty minutes ago. Now I was in a car chase with two more trying to kill us . My hands weren't shaking anymore . That scared me more than the guns .
GPS was dead. Phones off . We were flying blind through city streets at midnight.
" Where?" I choked out . " Where do we go?"
He closed his eyes . For a second I thought he'd passed out . Then: " Home."
" The compound?" Alessio, they found us at the hospital. They'll have men at the–"
" Not the compound." His eyes opened. Black . Bottomless .
" Home, principessa. And then we end this ."
Another SUV rammed us from behind.
My head snapped forward. The seatbelt cut into my chest . The wheel jerked out of my hands .
We spun .
Metal screamed. The world turned into a blur if streetlights and horns and my own heartbeat in my ears .
We hit the curb . The airbag didn't deploy. Old car . Stupid lucky .
We stopped. Facing the wrong way on a one-way street. Smoke curling from the hood .
Silence.
Then Alessio laughed. Wet . Ragged . " Good . They think we are dead."
He was right. The two remaining SUVs blew past us , chasing a ghost. Their taillights disappeared around the corner .
I turned to him . His head was back against the seat . Eyes closed . Too much blood on his shirt now . It wasn't stopping .
" Alessio?" My voice broke. " Alessio, look at me."
He didn't.
"Don't you dare . Don't you fucking dare die after I–" After I killed for you . After I kissed you . After you said 'we' .
I fumbled for the door handle . " I'm calling 911– "
His hand shot out . Fast . Even dying , he was fast . He grabbed my wrist . Iron . " No cops . No hospitals . We run."
" You will bleed out!"
" Then I bleed ." His thumb blushed over my pulse point . " But not in a cage ."
I understood. Cops means questions . Questions meant they will take me away from him . Morettis would find him in a hospital bed . Helpless . Again .
Fine. We run .
I ripped off the bottom of my shirt . The white cotton was the cleanest thing we had . I pressed it to his side , right under his ribs , Where the blood was pumping . He hissed but didn't flinch .
" Hold this. " I said to him . " Press hard ."
He did . His jaw locked . A muscle feathered there . God , he was beautiful like this . Broken and still a king .
I looked around. Alley . Dumpster. Fire escape . No cameras .
A car was parked at the end . Old Buick. Window cracked .
I ran to it . Prayed .
Keys . In the visor .
Stupid. Lucky .
" Alessio!" I yanked the passenger door open. " Can you walk ?"
He was already moving . Stood . Swayed . Stayed up . Each step looked like it would cost him an year . He collapsed into the seat , head back , eyes closed. But not asleep . Never asleep .
I drove .
No idea where . Just away .
Ten minutes. Twenty . The city blurred into warehouses and docks.
He made a sound . Wet cough .
I pulled over. " Alessio?"
His eyes opened. Glassy. " Basement. 12th and Mercer . Code's 1947 . My....my mother's year ."
I remember it . He told me this before .
I found it. Brick-building. No windows . Steel door .
I half-carried him inside . Laid him on the concrete floor . The only light was a bare bulb swinging overhead.
He was burning up . Fever . Infection.
" Stay with me." I begged . " Please!"
I held his hand tight. He caught my hand . Bought it to his lips . Kissed my knuckles. Bloody . " You shouldn't have shot ," He said . " You have never killed ."
" For you," I said .
" Wrong answer." His hand came up . Found my throat . Not choking . Claiming .His thumb pressed against my jw , tilting my face up .
" Say it again. Truth this time ."
I leaned down . My forehead touched his .
" Because I wanted to . Because they would have taken you from me . Because I am yours and you are mine ."
He pulled me down .
His mouth crashed into mine .
Blood . Sweat . Gunpowder . Him .
He kissed me as if he is branding me . His teeth cut my lip . I tasted copper. His or mine . Didn't matter.
"Mine," he growled against my mouth. " Now you're really mine , principessa."
A phone rang .
Not mine . Not his .
Burner . From the floor . Must have been hidden here .
It rang again .
I grabbed it .
Unknown number.
I answered.
" Put him on," a voice said . Moretti Sr. I'd know that voice in hell . " Or the old man dies ."
My blood went cold ." What old man?"
" Don De Luca ." Moretti laughed. Wet . Cruel . " Didn't he tell you? We have had his father for six years . Kept him alive just for this . Sunset. Docks . The girl for the Don . Alone . "
The phone slipped from my hand .
Alessio heard. Ofcourse he did . His eyes went black . Not with fury . With grief.
" Papa ," he whispered. The first time I'd heard him say it . Not Don . Not father. Papa .
He tried to stand . His legs gave out . He hit the floor , hard . A fresh red stain bloomed through the shirt I'd used as a bandage .
He looked at me . Eyes black with fury and fear . For me. " You don't go."
I stood. Picked up his gun from the floor. Checked the clip . Full . Seventeen rounds .
" Watch me."
I walked to the door .
"Sunset's in two hours," I said . Not to him . To myself. To the girl I was before I met him . And I'm done running ."