His brow creases, as he searches for any hint of stress in my face. I don’t give him any. “You’re telling me thatyouare refusing to choose.”
“I don’t care either way.” My voice is cool. “Perhaps the last few months have taught me something after all, Matteo.”
He studies my face. Waves a hand. “Drop them.”
Go – go—
A hard shove, as Amie and Frankie are thrown from the edge of the balcony—
Dante and Gio are ready. Their shots ring out, and my heart flies into my mouth as two men erupt into motion from our line as the guns go off. Rocco and Tony fly over the ground.
I rip my knife back and throw it as hard as I can. Matteo stumbles back and out of sight, and Stefan bellows to the men behind us. “Now!”
The world turns to gunfire as our line unloads their semi-automatic Glocks into Matteo’s men. Bullets spray my father’s house, glass shattering and paint flying in every direction. Wave after wave keeps Matteo’s men back, sheltering from the continuous assault and unable to get a shot in.
I stand motionless in the center of a hail of bullets as they pass by me, and a hard body tackles me to the ground.
Dom roars in my ear. “Keep your fucking head down!”
It was always a Hail Mary.
A single second. A million-to-one fucking chance.
A bullet, to sever the unfurling rope from a distance that could be impossible.
And someone to catch them.
My head twists up, desperately trying to see through the smoke. The bullets still rage above our heads, angled away from the ground to stop them being hit. “Did they get them?”
I don’t see them. Can’t see anything through the haze. Dom grabs my arm, pulling me back along the ground. “We’re running out of ammo.”
And as soon as we do, Matteo’s men will return fire.
Voices ring out. Dante. Gio. Luc. Stefan. Dom returns their shouts, still pulling me along. “Fall back, first line!”
“Second!”
“Back!”
The smoke offers enough cover for us to scramble to our feet and run.
Please.
Please.
I burst free of the cloud at the edge of the house boundary. I’m already scanning as the others emerge. Around us, men run for the vehicles we left on the other side of the gate and jump in.
Gio and Dante appear first, panting. Gio shakes his head. “I don’t know, Cat. I couldn’t see.”
There’s agreement on Dante’s face. And guilt, so much guilt. “It could have worked. But at that distance, the speed—,”
Luc appears next to them, Vincent beside him. The hope in my chest starts to fade. “Rocco? Tony?”
“They weren’t behind us,” Vincent says heavily. “We waited as long as we could.”
Luc grips my face, the lie of his anger nowhere to be seen. Only grief fills his eyes. “We tried, Cat. You tried.”
That’s not good enough.
