“Choose your next words carefully,” he mutters.
I don’t choose any.
Instead, my hand slides beneath the hem of my hoodie,fingers closing around the grip pressed into the small of my back.
The words shakily slip from my mouth. “Cut her loose.”
His body makes no obvious movement, and Chloe doesn’t move an inch.
But then he humorlessly laughs.
His gaze drops to the arm I have linked around my back. His jaw flexes, teeth grinding once as his fingers hover above his holster.
“You’re out of line,” he hisses.
“Maybe,” I reply. “But I’m not wrong.”
It takes him less than half a second to come at me.
So fast my mind lags behind my body.
His hand goes for his gun and I surge forward at the same time, crashing into him before either of us can draw our weapon. My shoulder slams into his chest, the impact rattling my bones as we hit the wall behind him hard enough to make it shudder.
Dante swears and drives his knuckles into my ribs, sending pain through my side as it steals the air from my lungs.
He twists immediately, reaching for his weapon again. I don’t give him the chance. My fist cracks into his cheekbone, skin splitting across my knuckles as his head snaps to the side. He staggers back a step, then another, but it isn’t enough. He recovers quickly, already going for his gunagain.
I think my punch is strong enough to disable him temporarily, but he proves me wrong instantly.
He lunges back in, hand gripping my jacket. He then pulls me forward abruptly and drives his knee up into my stomach, causing spit to fly from my mouth and on to the floor from the force of the hit.
And he doesn’t give me any time to recover as his fist comes down hard against the back of my head, sending me stumbling sideways.
This fucker doesn’t give me a single chance in hell to win against him.
“You should’ve dropped it,” he growls, swinging for my jaw.
I lean away just enough for the punch to graze my cheek instead of shatter it. I surge forward, slamming my shoulder into his midsection again, driving him back into the concrete floor.
He twists, trying to bring his gun up from his side, which he succeeds in doing.
I grab his wrist with both hands and slam it into the hard surface twice before the gun slips, clattering alongside us. He snarls, pulling his head back and slamming it into mine, the thud echoing in my ears.
Dizziness takes over and the iron of blood filters its way onto my taste buds.
Heshoves me back, giving him enough time to get up from the floor and more than enough time to grab the gun.
Dante lifts his hand, angling it directly toward my chest.
As blurry as it is, I see her move from the corner of my eye.
She stands up from behind him the best she can before grabbing and lifting the wooden chair, screaming as she launches it into his back.
Wood shards sling off of the chair as it slams into his shoulders. The weight of the strike causes his gunshot to soar past me and into the wall. Dante turns toward her, swinging the back of his hand into her cheek hard enough to thrust her to the floor in one swift motion.
She gives me the second I need to gain momentum back.
My hand is already at my back, ripping my gun free as I stumble forward. Dante is definitely thrown off, but turns away from the direction of Chloe and back to me. His eyes are wild and filled with what seems to be confusion. That doesn’t stop him from raising his weapon to my chest again.
