And then it happens. Death. He finds a friend. He always does.
The gun discharges, a deafening blast that echoes through the basement.
Is it me? Did he finally win? Is death now my guardian? My keeper?
Panic tightens my chest and I gasp, expecting to feel the searing pain of a gunshot wound.
But the pain doesn't come.
I glance down at myself, realizing with a mixture of relief and horror that I'm unharmed. Simone, on the other hand, isn't so lucky. She clutches her side. A red stains blooms through her clothes.
No…
No!
The deadly weight of the gun in my hands becomes unbearable, and I scramble to my feet. Leave. I need to leave.
Without thinking, without breathing, I run up the stairs, my gaze hazy and frantic, hands shaking as I bulldoze through the house and burst onto the street. The rising sun paints the skywith pastel shades of pink and purple. And red. Red. Like blood. Like death.
I stumble forward, breathing ragged, sharp, my chest aching and heavy and hurt. I need to focus. I need to concentrate. Where am I? What the fuck do I do now?!
Cobblestone streets stretch in all directions, the street signs in Italian a blurry jumble. My head spins with dizziness as I quickly glance around, tattooing the letters and numbers in my brain. The salty scent of the ocean guides me down the street as I stagger forward, blindly following the distant sounds of crashing waves.
Distance. I need to get away.
Using the brick walls for support, I stumble down the road until I reach the edge of the street. The vast void of the ocean meets my tear-filled eyes. A fleeting moment of clarity hits me as I stare into the blue water—I have a phone.
How did I forget? Fumbling with numb fingers, I retrieve it from my pocket. The screen lights up, and through my blurred vision, I dial the only number stamped into my memory, praying they're together, praying they can find me.
Damon's voice on the other end is a goddamn lifeline. “Hello?”
“It’s me," I whimper, the words catching in my throat. “I’m in Italy. I-I need help, Damon. I’m by the water.” My steps become erratic as I continue stumbling toward the marina. "Boats, there are boats," I mutter, desperation lacing my voice. "Find me." My legs wobble beneath me as I reach the pier.
“Emery!”
His voice fades as a wave of nausea crashes over me, the world tilting as the phone slips from my grip. The water below seems to whisper my name. Death calls to me. I can hear his voice. I can smell him. I can almost feel him.
My head pounds. My heart hurts. It’s beating with agony. I can’t stop it. I can’t make the pain go away.
Unable to stand any longer, I collapse off the pier, plunging into the cold embrace of the sea. Of death. The impact shocks me awake for a moment. Only a moment. And I want to fight, I really do but…but exhaustion wins.
"Please..." I whisper as the water swallows me whole.
THE SALTY KISS
QUINTON
The speedboat blaststhrough the teal waters toward the looming shores of Sarrano. "We've got less than five hours to find her before the deadline," I say. “There’s a lot of area to cover. This town is spread out. It could take us hours. Hours we don’t have.”
Damon’s jaw clenches, and he gives me a determined nod. "I've got men on the streets. Ex-military. They'll be looking for her too."
My frown deepens. "You hired contractors? When?”
“On the plane,” he responds. “Figured we’d need the help.”
I swallow. “Do you think that's a good idea? They said no police. The last thing we need is to spook them with military personnel roaming around. They could flee and then we’d be fucked all over again."
Damon rolls his eyes. "I told them to dress like civilians. They'll blend in."
