Holy fuck.
I searched for the source, but the only gun in the barn had been pointed at my head and Esteban’s bodyguard seemed as clueless as me.
A beat of stunned silence swamped the barn.
Then all hell broke loose.
The Sambini men drew their weapons and charged out of the barn. The Thing Twins followed, leaving me with Carlos and his bodyguard.
More gunshots rang out. Shouts in every language I could fucking think of.
Spanish.
Italian.
English.
My heart leapt. Was it too much to hope that my brothers had somehow found their way here? Was it wrong to hope they had when there was every chance they’d be outgunned and outmanned?
No.
Outnumbered.
Never outmanned.
The bodyguard tugged on Carlos’s elbow. “We’re sitting ducks in here. Let’s go.”
Carlos reached for me, but the bodyguard pulled him away. “Leave him. Let him catch the bullet meant for you.”
He swept Carlos away before he could respond, and they disappeared, taking my breath with them. For a long moment, I stayed deathly still, frozen in place, adrenaline jammed, unable to spark.
Then another gunshot rang out and the floodgates opened.
I lurched into motion, stumbling from the chair and staggering to the nearest hole in the wall, a jagged opening already blasted wider by a speeding bullet. Head-spinning from dehydration, hunger, and probably concussion, I peeked through, but saw nothing but the broken-down wood of other buildings.
Shit. I was blind, guided only by more bullets and the growing shouts of men I didn’t recognise yet.
I slid low and crept to the barn door, navigating around the bloody corpse of Lorenzo Sambini. His eyes were wide and staring. Something fucked up in me itched to close them, but I skirted past him. My nan used to say anyone buried with their eyes open never reached God. I didn’t believe in God, but fuck if I gave a shit if that dickstain ever found peace.
So I left him alone and continued to the door, easing onto my belly to take a glance at the war zone outside.
Carlos and his special friend were bogged down by a rusted tractor, hiding behind a tyre as they fought to reach... a fucking helicopter?
Damn. I rubbed my eyes with my bound hands, chains rattling. That hadn’t been there when we’d arrived, whenever the hell I’d been booted from the back of a van. Had it?
It scared me that I didn’t know.
It scared me that I could taste my freedom and yet know without doubt that I could lose it at any second.
A lull stole over the fighting. I rolled away from the open door and took cover against a wall made from corrugated steel, chest rising and falling too fast, panic clouding my senses. I was unarmed and bound, and to the best of my knowledge, I was alone.
I’m gonna die here.
It hadn’t bothered me five minutes ago.
It bothered me now.
I slumped lower against the wall, fighting to keep a lid on my terror. My foot nudged something, and the glint of black metal caught my eye.
