A Bratva man materializes, his weapon aimed directly at me.
"Katerina!" Luca’s body slams into mine, shoving me sideways as the gun fires.
The bullet meant for me rips through his chest instead.
The impact throws him backward, his body crumpling against me as we both crash to the floor.
"No!" I scream out.
Luca's eyes go wide with shock.
A choked, agonizing gasp escapes his lips as his hand fumbles toward the rapidly spreading crimson stain on his shirt.
His gun clatters to the concrete beside us.
My body moves on its own as I pick up his gun, raise it toward the man, and pull the trigger twice.
The man's expression shifts from confidence to confusion as the bullets hit his chest.
He stumbles backward, his own weapon discharging into the ceiling before he collapses in a heap on the floor.
My hands shake violently as I lower the gun, a wave of nausea washing over me.
I just killed someone.
Took a life.
But there's no time to process.
"Luca.” I turn my attention to him. Blood soaks through his shirt, pooling beneath him on the concrete. "Stay with me. Please, stay with me."
His eyelids flutter, gray eyes struggling to focus on my face. "Get out," he rasps. "Run."
"Not without you."
More shouts echo down the corridor. More footsteps. More men coming to finish what Maksim started.
I press my hand over Luca’s wound. There’s so much blood. Too much.
Gunfire erupts again. Bullets ricochet off the walls around us, showering us with concrete fragments. I flatten myself over Luca's body, shielding him as best I can while keeping his gun trained on the corridor.
"Enzo," Luca whispers, his voice fading. "Tell him?—"
"You'll tell him yourself," I hiss, firing blindly toward the approaching footsteps. "We're getting out of here."
But even as I speak the words, I know it's a lie.
There are too many of them.
Too few of us.
And Luca is bleeding out beneath my hands.
We’re going to die here.
A deafening explosion rocks the building, momentarily silencing the gunfire.
The lights flicker and die, plunging us into darkness.
