I catch a glimpse of Viktor.
He’s at the end of the hallway now, gun raised, and our eyes meet. There’s something in his expression that makes my blood turn to ice. Not anger. Not hatred. Something worse.
Possession. Ownership. Like I’m a thing that belongs to him, and he’ll destroy me before he lets anyone else have me.
He fires.
Something rips through my arm. The world tilts. Gray spots swarm my vision and I’m falling?—
18
MATTEO
I’ve beenthrough hell in my thirty years.
Fear and pain used to be constants, so ever-present that I forgot what normal felt like. I’ve been beaten, shot, stabbed, and burned.
None of it compares to this.
Sierra’s blood blooms through her sleeve, spreading fast.
A choked gasp leaves her lips, and the light drains from her eyes. She goes still, swaying on her feet, Then her knees buckle.
I grab her before she hits the floor, yanking her down behind the kitchen island for cover. My hand goes to her arm automatically, fingers slick and warm.
“Fuck.” I keep my other hand on my gun, eyes scanning the edge of the island. No movement. No footsteps. Viktor's either reloading or waiting us out.
I rip a dish towel off the oven handle, my hands shaking. I never shake. Not when I’m breaking bones, not when I’m staring downthe barrel of a gun. But right now, with Sierra’s blood soaking through my fingers, my whole body is trembling with a rage so pure it feels like I’m coming apart.
“I’ve got you.” The words come out harsh. Unsteady. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”
I’m saying it for both of us.
The wound is a graze. The bullet carved a furrow along the outside of her bicep, deep enough to bleed but nothing more. She’ll live. But the way she’s looking at me, eyes glassy with shock and pain, makes me want to tear Viktor apart with my bare hands.
I loop the towel around her arm a few inches above the wound, keeping it loose. She’s shaking now too, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps that gut me.
“This is going to hurt,” I tell her.
She nods, teeth already digging into her bottom lip.
I twist the towel tight.
She grits her teeth. I pull both sides of the towel hard and twist the ends over each other, cutting off the blood flow. She winces but doesn’t cry out. Brave. So fucking brave.
I tie the towel in place and reach for my gun.
I’m about to peek out and locate Viktor when the apartment door slams open hard enough to bang against the wall.
“Fuck, he’s getting away.” I grab my gun as I surge to my feet and round the island, catching just a glimpse of Viktor’s coat flapping behind him as he disappears through the doorway.
My finger tightens on the trigger, but the angle’s wrong. He’s already gone.
I could chase him. Should chase him. He’s got a head start, but I’m faster. I could catch him in the stairwell, put a bullet in his skull before he makes it to the street.
But Sierra?—
I look back.
