All the guests have arrived. None have left. Dinner just ended, so there’s no reason for anyone to have left. I’m certain of it.
I watch the car in what feels like slow motion.
Each tire rolls forward steady and precise. The car has tinted windows but is otherwise unimpressive and not in the least memorable. Black with silver details. No customized paint job. I can’t see from this distance if there’s any stickers on the windshield.
The window begins to roll down.
Instinct kicks in and I’m out of my chair before my next breath.
“Get down!” I yell toward Alessio and Rosalie.
They’re not fast enough. Just like the kid answering the door several days ago. Several large strides take me from the table to them and I spread my arms out to reach them. My hands curl around both of their bodies and I pull them back and down to the floor with me. My legs slide out from underneath my body in a swift motion.
Just as the tops of Alessio and Rosalie’s heads clear the window several shots break through the glass.
Chaos breaks out in the dining hall, but none of the screaming and gasping of the other guests matters to me.
The two people in my arms on the floor are the only two people those bullets were meant for. I’m positive of that.
A third shot hits the window, a fourth breaks through, and the glass explodes to the ground. The sound of tires squealing on the icy road are heard as the fifth shot goes into the brick wall below the window.
“Go! Follow that car now!” Eivor shouts at the other guards in the room. A scrambling of feet towards the door is heard behind me.
“Oh my God,” Rosalie gasps. She and Alessio sit up from the floor slowly.
“Are you alright?” I ask them, but it’s Alessio I turn to first.
He looks dizzy, and his hair is a mess all around his head. Several of Rosalie’s hairpins are on the floor too, but I still haven’t looked at her.
Alessio nods. Looks down at his legs then his arms and pats his chest. “Yes. I believe so.”
Relief washes over me. I look to Rosalie finally.
“You saved us,” she whispers. “Those fuckers.” Anger is hot in her eyes.
“Let me see your arms,” I tell her, suddenly smelling iron. Hot and rich.
“I’m okay,” she insists.
I grab her arms and look at them anyway. There’s blood along the sleeve of her dress.
“You’re injured,” I tell her. I roll her sleeve up, and see that it’s not a bullet wound, but rather a scrap from hitting the floor so violently. “Just a scratch.”
“I told you,” Rosalie huffs. She puts her hands on my broad shoulder to push herself up from the floor and then puts a hand on her head.
“Rose! Are you alright? My God, you could’ve been killed,” Soren is saying as he rushes to her side.
Carmine is there as well, helping Alessio up off the floor. I push up beside him and brush my hands down the front of my suit.
“Whoever it was intended to kill both of them,” I say.
“Really? Not just Rosalie?” Carmine asks curiously.
I shake my head. “No. If they intended to kill just her, they’d have waited. It was clearly meant for both of them.”
“Fucking Carvels, it has to be them,” Alessio growls out. The sound of his voice so intense and gravely sends a shiver up my spine that I do my best to ignore.
“They’ll get the car, and we’ll find out,” Soren insists. “We’ve got two cars after it.”
