He must notice my panic because he adds, “I’m boiling after that run. I wasn’t expecting you to make it this far.”
I take a deep breath. “If I were wearing running shoes, I’d probably be reunited with my family by now.”
“I’m sure you would.” I’m surprised he agrees with me. He holds his shirt in his hands, looking around as if he doesn’t know what to do with it. “Are you cold?”
I realize that my whole body is shaking, but I can’t tell if I’m cold or if it’s only the adrenaline.
“A little, but I don’t want your shirt if that’s what you’re asking.”
He rolls his eyes. “Put the damn thing on.”
Exhausted, I put it on without a fight. The gesture is oddly comforting, and besides, the protection from the wind is kind of nice.
“Can you bear weight on your other foot?”
“I think so.”
He holds both of his hands out for me, and I let him pull me up, wincing at the pain in both of my legs.
Then, seeing my discomfort, he scoops me up in his arms.
“I could have walked.”
He ignores me.
I wrap my arms around his neck so that I feel more stable, not that it’s too necessary. I fit comfortably in his arms.
He walks down, away from the castle.
“We’re not going back?” I ask.
“We are. But it’s much quicker to go down and have someone drive us up than for me to carry you all the way. We’re practically at the bottom of the trail. And I’m sure Marco has arranged for a car to be waiting. He always assumes that I’ll fuck up.”
The name Marco sends a chill down my spine. “Alessandro?”
“Hmm?”
“Marco said that only one of us will survive tonight. Aren’t you worried?” Then I wonder if he’s not worried because Marco will choose me as the sacrificial lamb. I flail in his arms, suddenly wanting to get away. I should have killed him when I had the chance.
“Easy,” he hisses. His grip tightens. “He will not kill either of us. Well, for sure not you. You’re more valuable to him than I am.”
I relax; he seems sincere right now, which only makes me more suspicious because it’s Alessandro.
“Marco plays these types of games all the time. I’m sure he’s in his bedroom, on his third whiskey and about to go to sleep.”
“So, all of that running and stepping on that cactus was nothing but a sick joke?”
“Yes.”
As Alessandro predicted, a black car waits for us at the end of the trail. He helps me get in, and we silently make our way back to the castle. The whiplash of emotions exhausts me. First, I was worried I was going to get shot, then I thought I’d actually escape, then I was worried I’d have to see the aftermath of Alessandro getting shot. I desperately want to be behind the closed doors of his place—that’s a laughable thought seeing how much I’ve hated being trapped.
I try to say no to him carrying me through the castle, but he insists, stating that I’d bloody up the floors. Which is nonsense, seeing that they planned a shootout in their own home.
But again, I’m too exhausted to argue.
He kicks the door closed when we finally get to his wing and takes me all the way to the bathroom, setting me on the edge of the tub.
Alessandro lets out a low whistle. “It looks worse in the light, but I don’t think you’ll need a proper doctor. I can patch it up.”
