Page 29 of Depths of Obsession (The Emerald Dagger Mafia #2)

CHAPTER 29

“ J esus, are you okay?” Renzo and Nico are standing over me, their faces filled with worry as pain radiates through every inch of my body. My bones feel like they've been shattered into pieces, my muscles screaming with each attempt to move.

It takes a minute for me to draw a deep breath, the searing pain slowly giving way to the dull throb of my aching limbs. Vampires can’t die from a big fall, but it hurts like a son of a bitch. “No, I’m not okay,” I growl, my voice rough. The metallic taste of blood lingers on my tongue, and I can hear the footsteps and the murmur of a gathering crowd.

“You gotta get up or we’re going to have trouble,” Nico says, his voice tense as he reaches down, grabbing my arm and pulling me to my feet. The world spins around me, the edges blurring as I fight for balance. My legs wobble like jelly, unable to hold me up, and Nico wraps an arm around my waist, practically dragging me toward the back of the Duomo. Each step sends sharp jolts of pain through my body, but I grit my teeth, forcing myself to keep moving.

“Is he okay?” someone calls out from the crowd, their voice tinged with concern.

“Sure,” Renzo says, slipping into a thick Italian accent. “He is fine. Too much to drink.” His voice is calm, but his eyes are scanning the crowd, wary.

“But he fell,” a woman insists, her voice rising with confusion.

“Yeah, he drunk and fall down,” Renzo says, waving her off dismissively.

“No, from up there!” she points, her voice wavering, her eyes wide with shock.

Renzo looks at me and snorts, his expression incredulous. “If he fell from up there, he be dead.” He grabs my chin, his eyes glinting with urgency. “Are you dead?” he asks, his tone filled with dark humor, trying to deflect the crowd’s attention.

Everything still hurts, a deep, bone-crushing ache, but I force a smile, my lips twitching. “Do I looksh dead?” I slur, leaning heavily against Nico. The woman stares at me, uncertainty flickering across her face, then she shakes her head. The crowd slowly disperses, murmurs fading into the distance.

“We have to get upstairs,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper, my eyes filled with determination as I start limping toward the side door. The pain is unbearable, but the thought of Pippa keeps me moving.

“What the hell happened?” Renzo demands, his voice low, but there is an unmistakable edge of panic beneath his words.

“Pippa pushed me off the roof,” I say, my emotions flashing with both disbelief and something bordering on pride.

Nico stares at me, his eyes widening before he bursts into laughter, the sound harsh against the night air. “The tarot reader was right. She made you have a big fall.”

I whirl around, my vision blurring with pain and fury. “She’s up there with Vittoria. We have to get up there now.” My voice breaks, the desperation seeping through.

Nico’s smile fades instantly, his gaze sharpening, his body tensing. He looks around, assessing the situation. “The only fast way up is if we run,” he says, his voice calm but urgent.

Renzo starts to argue, but one look at my face and he nods. He pulls me and Nico further into the shadows, away from prying eyes. “We’re gonna have to be quick. Can you handle it?” he asks, his eyes meeting mine.

Nico looks at me, assessing my injuries. “He can’t,” he says flatly.

I open my mouth to argue, but the pain is too much, my legs barely able to hold me up. Renzo nods, determination in his eyes. “You go on that side, Nico, and I’ll take this side. On the count of three, we’ll run up to where you broke the wall.” I nod, the words barely registering through the fog of pain. “One…two…three.”

The three of us are up the wall and back on the walkway in seconds, the cold night air biting into my skin. The sight that greets us makes my heart stop.

Vittoria whirls around, her eyes widening in shock, but before she can react, Renzo moves like a blur, his fist connecting with her jaw. The force snaps her head back, and she crumples to the ground, banging her head on the stone, the resulting thud reminiscent of a pumpkin smashing on the ground. There’s no need to check, she’s dead.

Frantically, I pivot, looking for Pippa.

“No!” The word rips from my throat, raw and desperate. I fall to my knees beside her, my hands trembling as I reach out. “Pippa! Oh God. Pippa!” My voice cracks, and I press my fingers to her neck, feeling for a pulse. The world seems to hold its breath. “She’s alive,” I whisper, relief flooding through me. “Barely.”

The sight of her—pale and still, a pool of blood spreading beneath her—rips at my heart. The deep gash across her chest is still oozing, her skin is cold under my touch. I pull off my jacket, pressing it against the wound, trying to stem the flow, but the blood keeps coming. It’s too much. The cut is too deep. Panic claws at my chest, tightening around my lungs, making it hard to breathe.

“Call an ambulance!” I bark, my voice raw with fear. “Pippa, cara , stay with me.”

Renzo puts his hand on my shoulder, his grip firm but gentle, trying to pull me back. “Let go,” I snarl, my fangs extending, the predator in me rising, desperate to protect what’s mine.

“Luca,” Renzo says, his voice steady but filled with sorrow. “She’s not going to make it. You have to move.”

“I will not leave her here,” I say, my voice breaking. The agony in my chest is unbearable, like my heart is being ripped apart. “She… she can’t die. Not like this.” Tears blur my vision, my hands shaking as I press harder against the wound. “She pushed me off the roof so Vittoria wouldn’t hurt me. Stupid… Jesus, Pippa,” I groan, my throat tight with emotion.

Nico squats down beside me, his face filled with both determination and sadness. “Move back so we can help.”

I stare at him, the world around me fading, swallowed by the fear of losing my true love. “Help how?” My voice is barely a whisper, the words trembling on my lips.

Nico’s gaze is unwavering as he reaches for the knife. He slits his wrist without hesitation, the dark blood wells up instantly. He hands the knife to Renzo, who follows suit, his expression grim. I take the knife, my own hand steady for the first time since I found Pippa. I quickly slice across my wrist, the pain sharp but distant compared to the fear gripping my heart.

The three of us pour our blood into Pippa’s wounds, the dark crimson mingling with her own. My hands are slick, the smell of blood thick in the air, metallic and raw. I watch her face, her unnaturally still features, and I pray—pray to whatever deity will listen—that we’re not too late. My heart pounds, every beat echoing with a desperate plea.

“Come on, Pippa,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “Stay with me. Please.”