Page 42 of Brutal Heir (Ruthless Heirs #3)

TOGETHER

R ory

One second, I’m smiling at the ridiculously handsome man hauling a Christmas tree down Central Park West. The next, he’s screaming at me to get down.

The roar of an engine cuts through the air like a blade. Tires screech. Then…

Pop. Pop. Pop.

Gunshots.

Before my brain even catches up, Alessandro’s body slams into mine, knocking me off my feet and to the sidewalk.

My knees hit hard, jarring pain shooting up my legs, but I don’t have time to register it because his arms wrap around me like a shield as shards from a shattered golden ornament rain down.

Another shot cracks through the air, this one closer.

The car circles, coming back for another round.

Screams erupt down the block. Chaos. People running. Someone drops a coffee cup outside the café nearby, and ceramic smashes across the pavement. A car horn blares in the distance.

“Alessandro—” My voice barely comes out, winded from the fall. All I can think is not again. I can’t lose someone else. Not him. Not now.

“Stay down!” he growls, his mouth so close to my ear it sends a tremor through me. Not from desire this time. From pure, unfiltered terror.

My face is pressed to his chest, the smell of pine needles and cologne clinging to his coat. He keeps his body curved over mine like a human shield. The tree we were so stupidly carrying lies sideways beside us, branches broken, needles scattered like shrapnel.

Another gunshot. Closer still. I flinch.

Alessandro’s body jolts.

“Feck, Ale?” My voice cracks. “Are you hit?”

“No,” he grits out, his breath coming fast and shallow. “I’m fine. But we have to move. Now.”

He grabs my hand and drags me up, half carrying me toward the alley between two brownstones. My feet barely touch the ground. Behind us, another shot rings out, ricocheting off the pavement.

Alessandro slams his back to the brick wall, pulling me tight to his front as he peers around the corner. His heart’s hammering so hard I feel it through both our coats.

I’m still clutching the stupid bag full of half-broken ornaments like it’s a lifeline.

“Was it them? The people behind the murder at the Velvet Vault?” I whisper.

His eyes snap to mine, the midnight one darker than ever. “La Spada Nera? I don’t know. But that sure as hell wasn’t random.”

I’m shocked he tells me their name. He’s been letting me into the murky world he inhabits, and he has no idea how familiar I already am with that darkness. He exhales, every muscle coiled and ready. His hand is still at my back, gripping the base of my spine like he’s afraid I’ll disappear.

Sirens wail in the distance. Finally. It feels like a lifetime.

“Rory…” he whispers, and suddenly the tremor in his voice isn’t from fear. It’s something deeper. More frightening. “I need you to promise me something.”

“Okay,” I breathe, barely able to speak through the lump in my throat.

“If anything ever happens to me?—”

“No,” I cut him off. “Don’t you dare. Don’t say it.”

“I need to say it,” he insists, cupping my face in both hands. “Promise me you’ll run. Go to Matteo. Go to my father. But don’t you ever stay for me.”

“I’m not leaving you,” I snap, tears now welling despite the adrenaline.

The city wails around us, a twisted Christmas carol of screams and sirens, and still, he looks at me like I’m the only thing tethering him to earth.

“I love you, Rory.” He blurts the words suddenly, fiercely. Like it’s the only truth that matters. “I should’ve told you sooner. I should’ve confessed how deeply you’ve sunk into my bones, my very being. But I’m telling you now.”

I’m stunned. Shaking. The world spins and narrows to the scarred man in front of me who just dropped his heart in my lap like it’s nothing. Like it’s everything.

And the words sink into me like another bullet, sharp, staggering, and impossible. But as I look at him, more alive than anyone I’ve ever known… I know they’re true. And I know mine are too.

“I love you too, Alessandro,” I whisper, brushing my lips to his. “And that means I’m not going anywhere. I’m not running this time.”

His breath shudders out, relief mingled with fear. His forehead presses to mine.

Then another voice crackles across the avenue. “Clear! NYPD!”

“ Merda , we have to go.”

Blue and red lights flash across Central Park as cops swarm the scene, and Alessandro’s hand tugs me from the alleyway, stepping in front of me again, protective to the end.

As we disappear within the frenzied masses, a flash of crimson blooming across the lapel of his coat sends my heart into overdrive.

“Shite, Alessandro, you’re bleeding!” I haul him to a stop, but he grits his teeth shaking his head.

“We have to keep moving. It’s just a flesh wound, I’ll be fine.”

“You’re bleeding,” I insist, fear and darkness edging into the corners of my vision.

“And you’re a nurse, right? You’ll stitch me up as soon as we get home.”

He tows me along beside him until we’re swallowed up into the crowd, but I can’t keep my eyes away from the deep crimson blossoming along his dark coat.

I don’t need his protection right now. I just need him.

And whoever tried to take him from me? They’ve just declared war on the wrong woman.

“You’re really wearing kitten scrubs to patch up the Gemini heir?” Alessandro is splayed across the bed, bare from his boxers up, his good shoulder torn up from where the bullet grazed him.

I’m barely holding it together, pretending my hands aren’t trembling and that my heart isn’t faltering. So I put on the practiced smile and slip into my bedside manner. “Don’t like it? Bleed somewhere else,” I tease, but the snark doesn’t come out right.

He grins, and my hands grow a little steadier.

“I’m fine, Red. The bullet barely grazed my shoulder. What’s another scar to add to the masterpiece?”

A rueful chuckle tumbles out, despite the tightness in my throat. I try to focus on stitching up the wound, but the fear I felt for Alessandro when we were being shot at still claws at my heart.

And the confessions…

Does he even remember telling me he loves me? Or was it just something said in the heat of the moment? I meant every word, but I’m not sure I would have admitted it if our lives hadn’t been on the line.

A tear spills over, and I sweep it away with the back of my hand, hissing out an angry curse.

“Hey, Rory, look at me.” Alessandro’s hoarse whisper forces my gaze to meet his.

“I’m so sorry I put you through that.” He pauses, snagging his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Growing up in this family, shoot outs aren’t exactly unusual for me.

But I hate that you were dragged into the crossfire. That I risked your life?—”

“No,” I cut him off. I hate that he feels guilty over this. Brigid O’Shea has been in her own fair share of shady situations. “There’s something I need to tell you…”

He presses a finger to my lips, silencing me. “Please, let me go first.” His voice cracks just slightly, but his eyes are steady like he’s finally done running from what’s inside him. He takes my free hand, lacing our fingers together, then presses our joined palms to his heart.

“I meant every word I said in that alley,” he murmurs, his thumb sweeping across my knuckles.

“Every single one. I love you, Rory Delaney. I didn’t say it because I thought I was going to die.

I said it because it’s the truth. Because I’ve been carrying it around for weeks, scared that if I spoke it out loud, you’d disappear. ”

Tears sting my eyes, but I don’t look away. I couldn’t if I tried.

“I just…” he exhales slowly, like the words cost him.

“I wish I’d told you for the first time in a way that didn’t involve bullets and blood, and you forced into my fucked-up world.

You deserve better than that. You deserve a rooftop and champagne.

A string quartet or whatever the hell women dream about when someone tells them they’re loved. ”

I lift our joined hands to my lips and kiss the back of his.

“Alessandro…” My voice wavers, but I push through. “You don’t get to decide what I deserve. And you don’t have to wish for a better moment, because this, you, are exactly what I want.”

He stares at me, something raw and wrecked in those eyes, like he can’t quite believe it.

“I love you,” I say again, firmer now. “Not because you saved me or because you almost died. But because when I’m with you, I remember who I really am. And more importantly, who I want to be.”

His throat works as he swallows, and then he drags me into him, wrapping me so tight I can barely breathe. I don’t care. I burrow into his warmth like it’s the only shelter from the storm.

“I’ve never said those words to anyone and really meant them.” His warm breath rushes through my hair. “Not like this. Not when it really mattered.”

“Me neither,” I whisper. I was a young eejit when I first met Conall, and I thought I knew what love was.

We stay like that for a long time, hearts still pounding from the aftermath. But now, they beat in sync.

Together.