Dante pressed a quick, fierce kiss to my lips. “Stay down until I say otherwise.”
His weight lifted from me, and he twisted to retrieve something from the back of the SUV. An assault rifle appeared in his hands.
Cold air swept into the vehicle when he opened the door, and I slammed my hands over my ears as gunfire exploded around me.
Dante was using the door as a shield, ducking around the side to fire a barrage of bullets at our enemies before taking cover a few seconds later.
He held his hand out to me. “Come with me. We have to get to one of the other SUVs.” He swore to himself. “I never should’ve taken you off the estate.”
He tugged at my hand, but I shook my head mutely, my body freezing in place. I couldn’t go out there where the Russians were waiting for me. They would make me beg for death before the end.
His body weight settled over me once again, his heat blanketing me. He stared down into my eyes, and his features sharpened with possessiveness that was almost feral.
“They won’t take you from me,” he growled. “I will protect you with my life, Nora. You are my wife. I won’t let them have you.” He grasped my shoulders in a firm grip and pulled me upright with him, keeping his big body between the damaged door and me. He curled two fingers beneath my chin, locking me in his steady gaze. “You’re the bravest woman I’ve ever met. You can do this. We have to move. Stay behind me.”
I swallowed hard and nodded, gathering my courage. He was right: we couldn’t stay here, not when the SUV was dead. Our only way out was to get to one of the other vehicles.
Mastering my terror, I shoved down my lifelong fear of the Bratva that’d paralyzed me. I wouldn’t simply lay here uselessly and wait for them to get to me.
Dante gave me a short nod of approval, then turned from me to unleash a hail of bullets from the rifle. He reached back and grabbed my hand, dragging me out of the armored SUV and into the open. His huge body shielded mine as he kept me tightly pressed to the vehicle at my back, scarcely giving me enough space to move as we edged toward the closest allied SUV.
His body jerked twice, and he fired at the Russians with a snarl. He’d taken the impact of two bullets for me. The Kevlar vest protected him from the first, but I noted the red bloom on his white shirt, a wound gouged into his left arm.
He kept himself squarely in front of me, acting as my personal human shield. His men continued to shoot at our enemies, and by some miracle, none of them managed to catch Dante with a head shot in the long, breathless seconds it took us to reach the waiting SUV.
Dante shoved me through the open door. His body jerked again, and he roared as crimson stained his shoulder.
I had one moment to stare into his fierce emerald eyes. They glittered with murderous intent.
“I’ll kill them all,” he vowed. “Get her out of here!” As he issued the barked order, he slammed the door between us.
A shocked cry that sounded a bit like a ragged protest burst from my chest, but the SUV lurched forward. Through the tinted window, I watched Dante reel back from the impact of another bullet hitting his vest. He ran for the cover of his other SUV.
The violent scene disappeared from sight as we rounded a sharp curve in the road, tires squealing. I was being taken back to the safety of the estate, while Dante stayed behind in the midst of the firefight.
He’d bled to protect me. He’d saved me from the Bratva.
For the first time since he’d kidnapped me, I didn’t wish for Dante to die.
Chapter 11
Luca
A sudden wash of light seared my eyes, and my stomach dropped as I recognized the light, quick footsteps on the stone stairs.
“You can’t be here,” I ground out, blinking hard to clear the spots from my vision.
“Luca!” My name hitched on a sob, and I blindly groped my way to the bars, toward her.
The world finally came into focus, and fear lanced my heart. Dark red blood splattered her left shoulder.
“What did he do to you?” The demand was so roughened by rage that it was barely intelligible.
She shook her head, mussed hair swaying around her pale cheeks. Tears glistened on her face, falling in thick streams. She threw herself at the bars, reaching for me. Instead of taking her hands in mine, my touch roved over her chest, checking her injuries.
“It’s not my blood,” she choked out. “It’s Dante’s. The Russians…” She shuddered and choked off on a sob. Pressing herself tighter against the bars, she grabbed my shoulders and pulled me toward her for a fierce embrace. The metallic barriers were frigid between us, but they didn’t stop me from holding her as close as possible.
“You’re not hurt?” I asked, even though she felt whole in my arms.
