“Where is she?”I shout, getting in Martin Del Moro’s face.
He laughs. As I lean back, he spits on my shoes. “Oh, you’ll find her all right, but will she be breathing?”
I pull my arm back and punch him in the face. “You bastard,” I hiss out.
Josh grabs my elbow. “Clay, keep it together. We need to find her first.”
I turn to him, feeling completely lost. “But where? They checked the apartment, but she was not there. She’s just—” A gunshot interrupts me, and our eyes widen. “Where did that come from?” I ask, rushing over to the open door of the building and frantically looking around the hallway.
“Basement,” Josh answers, heading inside and to the stairway. I’m right next to him in no time, with some of our colleagues following close.
“Call an ambulance,” I tell the one behind me as we reach the basement. Josh starts to open the heavy door, but I stop him. “I got it. You’re injured.” He clenches his teeth but steps aside. The door isn’t locked, but it’s stuck. I have to ram it with my shoulder before it gives way, causing a loud crash. Gun raised, I step into the room, shouting, “NYPD!”
The scene that meets my eyes is straight out of a nightmare. I quickly scan the room. To the left stands Carolina, gun aimed at the entrance and now directly at me.
Fuck, she’s hurt.
She’s covered in blood, her face sprinkled with it, and a large wound gapes from her left shoulder, with blood streaming down. Her stance is perfect, just as I’d taught her, but as I scan her from head to toe, I see that there is also a wound on her leg, her black jeans even darker on her outer thigh. Her face is determined. She stands protectively in front of a chair where Chiara is tied, muffled sobs coming from her. On her right is another chair, and in front of it is Carolina’s coworker, a bullet hole cleanly marking his forehead as he stares blankly at the ceiling. Beside him, Carolina’s uncle lies motionless, a knife buried deep in his neck. The floor is pooling with blood, and the stench in the room is moldy and coppery.
Holy fucking shit.
“Carolina,” I call out, locking eyes with her. She tightens her grip on the gun, her fingers covered in blood. “That’s my girl,” I soothe. “Look at you with that flawless stance. You did so good. Now, turn the safety on, just like I showed you, and put the gun to the floor.” Demonstrating, I lower my gun.
Come on, remember what I taught you.
“Do as I’m doing. Turn the safety on, Carolina.” Slowly, I extend a hand and step toward her, but she doesn’t move. “I’ll come and get you now, okay?” I question, starting to take a step, but Josh’s hand on my shoulder stops me.
“Don’t. She’s in shock and will shoot you,” he cautions.
I try to focus on her eyes, looking for some sign of recognition. She’s panting while her wound continues to pour out blood with every beat of her heart. Behind her, Chiara is whimpering.
“You took them out. You did amazing. We’ve got the Del Moros. There’s no one left to harm you or Chiara. But you’re hurt, and you need help. Let Josh and me take care of you, Carolina.” I take another step in her direction, and her finger trembles on the trigger, the gun still aimed at my heart—exactly where I’d told her to.
“Carolina,” Josh consoles from beside me. “You’re safe. We’ve got you.”
The entire gun trembles in her grasp now, the shaking traveling up her arms, tears forming in her eyes.
“The danger is over, turn the safety on. I’ll come to you, but you need to turn the safety on,” I urge, taking another step toward her. Seeing her entire body starting to shake, I shout, “Turn the fucking safety on, kitten!”
Her trembling finger moves to the safety, clicking it into place. I rush forward, catching her just as her knees buckle and give out.
“Medic! We need a fucking paramedic here!” I bellow over my shoulder, laying Carolina down gently and pressing onto her bleeding shoulder.
“I… I think it h-hit an artery,” Josh stammers, voice shaking as he crouches on her other side. “She’s losing a lot of blood.”
“I’m so sorry,” Carolina whispers, her eyelids fluttering.
“Don’t you fucking dare give up on me. You promised,” I shout at her. “You’re not getting out of this that easy, kitten!”
She can’t leave now, not after everything.
It seems someone has managed to get Chiara free, as she’s now kneeling beside me, clutching Carolina’s hand and desperately pleading, “No, no, no, non lasciarmi.”
Paramedics arrive, pushing us aside to get to Carolina. One quickly applies pressure to the wound on her shoulder with a cloth while another gets a stretcher ready beside her. I help themmove her onto the stretcher, but her eyes are closed when I look at her face again.
“Kitten!” I shout, and her eyes jolt back open. “Fucking stay with me, or Xander will whoop both our asses,” I tell her and see a faint smile form on her lips just before the paramedics whisk her away.
I look at the trembling Chiara, then at Josh.
