I pull desperately toward the shard of glass, he’s too low I can’t cut him with it but I lean in close, praying it doesn’t slash my throat. Instead, I slice through what’s left of my fancy updo that’s still in his grip and he screams, dropping three stories with a fistful of my hair in one hand and the broken slate tile in the other. I watch him, all the way down until his skull shatters against the flagstone terrace.
Slumping against the windowsill, I rub my ribs, trying to get my breath back.
The door behind me shudders under a barrage of kicks and slams open as Alastair rushes through.
“Sorcha!” His horrified gaze lands on me and he’s across the room in a second, picking me up. “Oh, love…”
“Dimitrijevic,” I wheeze, “kill me…” I catch my breath. “He escaped, and-”
Two of my brothers come roaring through the door, guns drawn.
“Anyone else?” Lachlan says, sweeping the room.
“Just that one,” I say, leaning into Alastair’s comforting hold.
“Did you go after the Dimitrijevic brothers without telling me?” Alastair shouts at Lachlan and Cameron.
“Aye,” Cameron agrees with a sigh. “We dinna want to worry Sorcha, we killed the first brother. We planned to finish off Vuk after the wedding.”
“She already took care of it for you!” Oh, Alastair is so mad. “So go clean up his brains. They’re scattered all over the fucking garden!”
Lachlan’s ignoring him, looking me over with a critical eye. “Scorch, where is the rest of your hair?”
“He wouldn’t let go of it,” I say, rubbing my sore scalp, “he was pulling me out the window so I cut my hair off with a piece of broken glass.”
“I’ll be damned,” Lachlan says, “it’s like a reverse Rapunzel, or some shite.”
Cameron’s still methodically going through the room, checking closets and the bathroom. “Clear,” he announces, somewhat unnecessarily.
Alastair’s holding me on his lap, rocking slightly. “Love, I should have been here. I should have protected you.”
“You put your entire mafia in jeopardy to protect me,” I say, resting my head against his chest. I can feel the rapid pace of his heartbeat against my cheek.
“Next time, perhaps your brothers will enlighten me about their extracurricular activities.” He’s glaring at an unrepentant Lachlan, though Cameron seems mildly chastened. “How many fucking times are you arseholes going to leave the mission unfinished?”
“This time, we did a clean sweep of all the feckers involved,” Cameron says.
“Not such a clean sweep, arsehole,” Alastair snaps, “because my wife had to kill him herself!”
“Scorch, I’m so sorry,” Cameron says heavily, “we should have finished the job. You should hate us.”
“Comin’ from the fecking prick who bought her-” Lachlan starts up.
“Weesht! It’s over. No carfuffling now,” I say.
My sisters-in-law pile through the door with my mother, who gasps in horror when she sees the state of me.
Burying my face in Alastair’s neck, I whisper, “Can you make them all go away for a wee bit?”
“Of course, my sweet girl.” Setting me on the bed, he rises, wearing his most stern expression, which is enough to make grown men wet themselves. “My bride and I need a moment, please. If she has injuries that need tending, I’ll let you know.”
None of them are keen on leaving, but he coldly stares at them until they back out the door. Morana is last, mouthing,Are you okay?
“Aye,” I smile weakly, “I’ll be needing a hairdresser and some Ibuprofen in a minute, please.”
When they’re gone and it’s quiet again in the room, Alastair runs his hands over my shoulders and arms, wincing when he sees the slash marks in my robe from Dimitrijevic’s blade.
“Did he cut you?” His warm brown eyes turn chilly, like frost on the soil.
