Who we’d been killing upstairs—old enemies of our family or not—had been of no interest to me. Only that they died. Quickly and painfully.
“Does it matter?Porca troia!The only good Italian is a dead one.”
A shrieked: “STAN!” had me breaking off.
“KITTY!”
It was a roar and a plea and a prayer all at once.
Silence answered me. A dearth of it.
That was enough of a clue for me to take the left corridor.
I ran, chasing down doors to find her, heart in my throat as I questioned why she didn’t reply.
She’d shouted for me once.
Why not twice?
“Kitty!” I yelled again, hoping for more of a clue about her location.
She answered with a second, sharper scream.
I raced toward it, praying that Accursio,Patri, orEvangeline would guide me to her before it was too late for both of us.
SIX
KITTY
Playlist recommendation:
Not Afraid - Eminem
With me running on fumes, when Stan’s driver pinned me to the ground, I let him.
Inside, I screamed. My temper, already fierce, buckled and burst. If I could have spewed on him, I would—lava, vomit—at this point, I’d have taken anything as a projectile to slow him down. ButIwas slower than he was. The night’s exertion took its toll. Weakness corroding me, when he kicked and punched and did everything he could to force my submission, I twisted in his hold, but it didn’t stop him from spreading my legs.
Nothing did.
I’d stabbed his face, pulled off his ear, but he didn’t stop. Nothing stopped him. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
I felt him yank at my panties. Heard him grunting as he tried to unfasten his fly one-handed. His blood dripped and slid over me, making my skin crawl.
Unable to watch this happen, I turned my head.
That was when I saw it—the lamp.
Battered, bloodied, lying on its side.
I didn’t give myself time to think or to react, just snatched it and brought it down on his head.
I must have hit him at a better angle than I’d done with the other guy because that was enough to take him out.
For endless seconds, he stared blankly ahead, his eyes taking an age to flutter to a close before he tumbled on top of me.
Frantic, I shoved at his dead weight, needing to be free of it, desperate to be away, to not be here, to be with Stan. I pushed and pulled until I liberated myself from his bulk, and then I patted him down for weapons I could use in a pinch.
Gunfire broke through the feverish haze separating me from the rest of the world.
