Page 60 of Damon

"Vergas found us." He's checking his weapon. "How many shots did you hear?"

"I’m not sure. A lot."

More gunfire erupts from somewhere outside, closer this time. The sound of automatic weapons mixed with the sharp crack of pistols. A full-scale assault.

"Fuck." Damon moves to the window, staying low, peering through a gap in the curtains. "At least six vehicles. Maybe more."

"What do we do?"

"We get you out of here."

Outside, the gunfire is getting closer and I can hear shouting.

"Where are the bodyguards?" I ask.

Damon's expression goes dark. "Probably dead."

More men died because of me. Because I'm here, because someone wants me dead badly enough to wage war for it.

"This is my fault."

"This is the Vergas' fault." He's back at the window, assessing the situation. "They want to eliminate both our families. You're just the excuse they're using."

A window explodes on the other side of the house.

"Upstairs bedroom. Now. Go!”

I run up the stairs into the bedroom, with Damon close behind me, giving me cover. He grabs a duffel bag from under the bed, checking his backup weapons.

"There's a window that leads to the roof. We go out that way."

We move quickly down the hallway, keeping low. A loud crash explodes from downstairs as they shatter another one of the windows. The sounds are getting louder, furniture overturning, doors slamming, loud voices calling out in rapid Italian.

"Kill him and find the girl!" someone shouts.

"They know I'm here," I say.

"They know someone's here. Doesn't mean they know it's you."

But we both know that's not true. This attack is too coordinated, too specific. Someone told them exactly where to find me.

We reach the back bedroom, and Damon immediately goes to the window, working the locks. "This leads to the garage roof. From there we can drop to the ground and make it to the tree line."

"What about your car?"

"Keys are downstairs. We're going on foot."

The window slides open as we hear footsteps on the stairs. Heavy boots, moving methodically, checking each room.

"Ladies first," Damon says, helping me through the window onto the slanted roof.

The air is cold against my skin, and the roof tiles are slippery. I can see the forest beyond the garage, dark and thick, offering cover if we can reach it.

Damon follows me through the window, moving more carefully because of his size. That's when the bedroom door explodes inward.

"Here!” someone shouts.

Gunfire erupts behind us as Damon throws himself flat against the roof, pulling me down with him. Bullets whine overhead, chipping chunks of tile that rain down around us.