“I can’t let you do that,” Luca’s man protested, anvil-hard jaw set with determination.
I narrowed my eyes at him. We didn’t have time for him to get in my way.
“Kill him.”
Without question, one of my men shot him square in the chest.
The obstacle between me and what I wanted was effectively eliminated. Now I just had to get Luca back to my waiting armored SUV before more of his sycophants made it to the warehouse.
My enemy would live. I would do everything in my power to ensure his survival.
For Nora, I would do anything.
Chapter 3
Luca
My head throbbed, and nausea churned my stomach. But the physical discomfort was secondary to the desperate fear that gripped me as soon as I struggled back to consciousness.
“Nora.” I groaned her name and forced my heavy lids to open, searching for her.
The deafening gunfire had died down, and the quiet made my blood run cold. I couldn’t hear her pleas, her screams.
I blinked hard and gasped her name again, pushing myself upright.
A strong hand clamped on my shoulder, shoving me back down. I didn’t hit the concrete floor; I was lying on something soft and strangely comfortable.
“Stop thrashing, you useless bastard. You’ll hurt her.”
I willed the world to solidify around me. Sharp green eyes pierced me, as though Dante could pin me down with the force of his will rather than his restraining hand.
His cutting gaze quickly flicked away, his intense focus centering on Nora. She laid on the bed beside me, pale and utterly still. A man I didn’t recognize leaned over her, carefully cleaning the blood from her face so that he could study her wounds with clinical efficiency.
“What’s happening?” I demanded, capturing her chilled fingers in mine. “Where are the Russians?”
I tried to sit upright again, but Dante forced me back down. Pain jarred my head, and the room swam around me. I willed away the darkness that flickered at the edges of my vision, clinging to consciousness so that I could stay with her.
“I killed as many of them as I could before I got her out, no thanks to you,” Dante growled at me, but his intense attention remained fixed on Nora’s bloody face. “We’re back at my estate. She’s safe now.”
I tore my gaze from her to study my surroundings. My stomach dropped when I recognized the setting: we were in Dante’s bedroom. He’d saved her from the Bratva, but he’d dragged us both back to hell.
“She will never be safe with you,” I seethed. “Let her go.”
His eyes blazed, fixing on me once again. They burned into me, his hatred searing my soul. “You did this,” he hissed. “I don’t know how, but this is your fault. You knew that she’d left the safety of the estate. You let them get to her.” He bared his teeth at me. “I should kill you slowly for that.”
I snarled right back at him. He was the one who was meant to be dead. But my blade had missed its mark. A thick bandage was wrapped around his shoulder, already soaked through with blood. But the fucker was still breathing. The injury I’d inflicted didn’t seem to pain him at all; he was too consumed by his rage and loathing to notice the wound.
Or maybe it was his concern for Nora that kept him upright. Despite his contempt for me, his gaze strayed back to her, his sharp features pinching as though her agony was his own.
I focused on her, too, addressing the man I surmised was Dante’s private physician. “How is she?” I asked. “What did they do to her?”
“You know what they did!” Dante thundered, but he didn’t make a violent move against me. All his muscles locked up tight, and a vein pulsed at his brow as he glowered at me. “And it’s your fault.”
My stomach sank. “I had to get her away from you.” The excuse was bitter on my tongue. “Her father sent Giana to retrieve her. I wasn’t going to deny her the chance to escape this hell.”
“She doesn’t need to escape from me,” he barked. “She is my wife. And you let her run straight into a Russian ambush. They must’ve grabbed her when she was on the way to her father’s house. For all I know, they might’ve attacked Giuseppe too. I haven’t been able to reach him. I could’ve used his men to kill more Russians during the assault.”
My fists flexed. I hoped the Bratva had killed Giuseppe, my oldest, most hated enemy. Although, he deserved to die by my hand after abusing Nora for years. And after how he’d caused my own mother’s death. If the callous bastard had died, I hoped it’d been slow and painful.
