I try to shake the memory loose, but my body is paralyzed by the thought that I might not get to her in time and could lose her in the next few seconds.
Fifteen feet between us, but when I try to take another step, I hear the click of the gun at the base of her throat.
“You’re going to do what you should have done months ago, and use that brain of yours to move some money for me. Are we understood?”
I watch as Amalia tries to keep her head up, chin raised, but I don’t miss the way her lower lip has taken on a faint tremor.
“Okay.”
That’s all I say, and Silvio looks surprised by how easily I agree. I could shoot him, but there’s a risk, a probability far too high that his hand would reflex on the trigger before he hit the ground, a probability I will not factor in with her life at stake.
“Two million dollars. From this account into this one. And I don’t want any problems,” he tells me, tossing a piece of paper onto the carpet.
When I bend to pick it up, I steal twenty more inches, and I catch the scent of lilac and hot chocolate. After ninety-three days without it, I feel my lungs are unable to fill fast enough with that smell.
I look at Amalia, and she gives a small shake of her head, telling me not to do it, but she doesn’t understand that I would give that money out of my own pocket just to get her back safely.
But I know what account he wants me to pull from. This is Alessio’s personal account, and this is how he thinks he’s getting revenge on his don, the man who “wronged” him by cutting off the gambling money.
“This is the don’s account. You know the transfer will never be approved.”
“No, but you have a friend who knows a few tricks with computers.”
“This is punishable by death, Silvio. Nobody steals from Alessio. Nobody.”
“It’s been a pleasure,bastardo,” he tells me with a laugh, but in that instant, Amalia throws herself backward with everything she has, and she and the chair crash down on top of Silvio.
His hand still has the gun, and without stopping to consider that Sebastian will grow up without me, that I’ll leave Karina alone, that I’ll be breaking my promise to Dean, I drop to my knees between Amalia and Silvio, one second before his weapon discharges.
The bastard catches my left shoulder, and even though it burns like hell, I raise my arm and put a bullet between his eyes before he can cause any more problems.
Amalia hasn’t said a word, hasn’t moved at my back. I turn to her and cup her face in my hands. She has tears on her cheeks and her lower lip is trembling, making me realize it’s been ninety-three days and seven minutes since I last kissed her.
“God, Amalia, I’ve missed you,” I tell her before I close the distance between us.
Her eyes are still shut, and she’s trembling in my hands.
“Baby, open your eyes.”
She squeezes them tighter, somehow making herself even more fucking adorable.
“Amalia. I need to see your eyes.”
And just like that, I watch her open first one then the other, and exhale.
Her fingers move gently toward my shoulder, and no matter how hard I try not to, a grimace of pain crosses my face when she makes contact near the wound.
“Ayy Diosito,for the love of Thales, you’re hurt, and you’re bleeding, and it obviously hurts, I’m sorry, we need to get you help right now, we need to disinfect the wound, are you in shock? You look like you might be in shock?—”
“Amalia. Breathe. I’m okay. Stop your mind for one second?—”
My hand moves across her cheek, and for the first time in three months, I finally feel like I’m breathing normally, because she’s beside me.
Outside there’s complete silence, which means Alessio’s men have finished their work, and when I refocus my eyes, I see a shadow behind Amalia.
My mind is slow for five seconds, but when I see Maksim Rastovski standing in front of me, my brain doesn’t wait for any further signals. I’ve seen him in photographs next to that bastard Aleksandr, and all I need to know is that they share the same blood.
I raise the gun and manage to say, “This is for Dean, you son of a bitch.”
