Dario groans. Blood pours from the gnarly wound in his skull. But he’s far from dead.
Destroy the brain.
Cut off the blood flow.
Those are my two options.
I hit him again. This time the trophy shatters. Small pieces fly through the air. Jagged edges coat with blood and gore. He collapses to his knees.
Shaking free from Dario’s loose hold, I grab the remaining piece with both hands and put my body weight behind the movement as I jab the end into his throat.
Blood spurts. Crimson coats my fingers and the bookcase. Warm wetness splashes across my face and neck.
I stab him repeatedly. A feral scream echoes in the space. It takes me a moment to realize I’m the source of it. I don’t let up until Dario tips over and crashes to the floor.
Breathing hard, I back away from his twitching body. His vacant eyes stare at the ceiling. Strangely, for all the killing that goes on around me, this is the first time I’ve ever seen a man die.
The first who has died at my own hands, too. But he won’t be the last.
Is he even dead?
Letting go of the shard of wood, I drop to my hands and knees. Searching Dario’s pockets, I find the desk key. With slick, trembling fingers I go to the desk and insert the old, rusty key in the lock. I turn it. The key snaps.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!
I hold up the broken end. Then toss it aside.
Crouching down, I poke my finger into the lock. Sure enough the rest of the key’s stuck in there. I tug on the handle, but of course the drawer mechanisms are sturdy. It’s an old piece of furniture crafted of hardwood and metal.
Damn it!
Now what am I going to do?
Standing, my gaze lands on the office door. My way to freedom. I could leave and go find help. Without a gun or a cell phone I don’t know how far I’d make it.
Besides, I can’t leave Julianna.
Mind made up, I glance around the office for a weapon. I’m not going in empty-handed. I spot a marble bookend on another shelf. Hefting it, the weight too much for one hand, I cradle it in my arms.
With adrenaline and a massive amount of pent up rage, I march to the door separating me from Julianna. Twisting the knob, I’m almost surprised to find it unlocked. I push open the door, mentally preparing myself for whatever I’ll find inside.
Niccolò has Julianna pinned to the bed. He glances up, annoyance twisting his features. “Get the fuck out. I’m busy.”
The sound of tearing fabric rents the air. Julianna screams, fighting against him. He slaps her across the face.
His gaze snaps up to me again, this time he calls out. “Dario! Where the fuck are you?”
Wrapping both hands around the chunk of marble, I bolt toward the bed. His eyes widen. I swing my arms up, then bringthem down, aiming for his head. The impact rattles my bones. A sickening, juicy thud fills me with twisted satisfaction.
But it’s not enough. He doesn’t collapse like Dario did.
Niccolò roars. Blood streams down the side of his face. How is he still conscious, much less alive?
Julianna reaches for the marble bookend where it lays on the bed. Shoving it upward, she breaks Niccolò’s nose. Blood gushes from his nostrils. With a cursed groan, he falls to one side.
Julianna scrambles out from under him. Her torn shirt hangs in shreds around her petite frame. One strap holds her bra in place. Red marks litter every inch of her skin. I reach for her and she clasps my hand.
Shoving her behind me, using my body to shield hers, I search for another weapon. Because we’re not leaving here until he’s dead. Until he can’t come after us ever again.
