Page 46 of Forbidden Sins

SEBASTIAN

I couldn’t leave her.

I know she thought she was doing the right thing, telling me to go.

And it was a smart plan, on the surface.

I’m well aware that if Vito isn’t going to allow me to go with Estella to her new marital home, Antony Gallo isn’t going to just cut me loose and let me go on with my life.

That’s been a ticking clock since I got caught out here kissing Estella in the roses, and the only real question has been whether my death will come quick or slow.

Leaving while everyone, including her father, was occupied with the announcement might have worked.

Antony might even have been convinced to let me go if his daughter capitulated fully to his wishes.

Estella was ready to sacrifice herself so that I could live a life free of all of this, and while that told me more clearly than any words ever could how she feels about me, that’s not what I promised her.

I promised I’d protect her, no matter what. That I wouldn’t leave her side.

And it’s a damn good thing that I didn’t.

The moment I saw her go out into the gardens, it took everything in me not to follow her, not to repeat what happened at the last party. When I saw Vito follow her, I knew I had to make sure that she was safe.

When I saw him grab her, when I saw his hands on her, I fucking snapped.

The moment I see him shove her hand against his cock, I lunge forward.

“Get your fucking hands off of her, you piece of shit,” I snarl, grabbing the back of his suit jacket with one hand as I haul him backwards, away from Estella, who is cringing against the lattice as if she’d rather die than let him touch her for another moment.

“You—” Vito starts to growl something into my face, twisting around, but I don’t give him the chance. I don’t want to hear what he has to fucking say.

I draw my fist back, driving it into his face hard, knocking him to the ground. I follow him down, punching once, twice, a third time, until he’s out cold, blood dripping down his face from his nose and mouth.

With Vito unconscious, I go straight for Estella.

She’s gripping the lattice with one hand, looking at me as if she’s never seen me before, her body trembling so hard that her knees look as if they’re about to give out.

I catch her before they can, my arm going around her waist as I pull her up against me, pushing her hair gently away from her face.

“You were supposed to leave,” she gasps. “You were supposed to be gone by now?—”

“I couldn’t.” I look down at her beautiful face, her wide, dark eyes staring up at me. “I couldn’t leave you.”

Estella’s eyes go glassy with unshed tears. “My father will kill you?—”

“I’d rather die than see you with another man.” I cup her face in my hand, everything spilling out now, when there’s nothing left to lose. We’ll get away, or I’ll get caught, but there’s no point in holding any of it back now. “I love you, Estella. How could you think that I could ever leave you?”

“I don’t want to see you die!” she cries out, and tears spill over the edge of her lashes. “I wanted you to live!” She shoves at my chest, hard, the tears coming faster now. “I wanted one of us to get to really live!”

I thought my heart broke the night that Antony dragged me away from her.

I thought I knew what it felt like to have it splinter to pieces, to feel myself bleeding out on the inside.

But no pain I’ve felt before, be it that or the physical pain I suffered that night, can compare to the agony of seeing Estella cry for me.

The pain of knowing that she’s willing to sacrifice her own happiness just so I can live my life.

She leans into my touch even as she’s saying it, as if she’s soaking up these last moments with me, this last chance to touch each other before it all falls apart. I reach up with my thumb, brushing away a tear sliding down her cheek.

“Living without you isn’t living at all,” I murmur fiercely, pulling her closer. “I’d rather Antony had killed me that night if this was all just going to end in walking away from you.”

Her hands clutch at my shirt. “He’s not just going to kill you outright, Sebastian, you know that. I don’t know how anything can be worse than what he did last time, but somehow, he’ll figure out a way?—”

A groan from behind us cuts her off. Vito stirs on the ground, blood smeared across his face as he rolls onto his side. His eyes flutter open, disoriented at first, then sharpening with rage when they land on me.

"You're fucking dead," he spits, fumbling for his phone. His fingers leave bloody smears on the screen as he punches in a number.

I should kill him now. It would be easy—he's still dazed, barely able to sit up. One more blow to knock him out and another well-placed one after could end this, but I can't do it with Estella watching. Not like this.

I look back at her, feeling as if my heart is cracking in two.

I know what a life with Vito will be like for her.

I know what he’ll do to her—what he’s already tried to do to her tonight and even before.

I know that assault and violence will become a part of her daily life.

How can I leave her to that, when I vowed to protect her?

I can’t protect her here any longer, and I can’t leave and keep her safe unless I take her with me. But if we run away together, Vito and her father will hunt us to the ends of the earth. We’ll never be fully safe again.

But she’s not safe here at all.

I look at her tear-stained, terrified face, and I think of every day that will follow this one, if I leave.

Of the tears, and the bruises, and the pain he can inflict on her that will never go away.

Of her, forced to marry him, to bear his children, of what those children will see their father do to their mother.

The choice in front of me, I realize, isn’t really a choice at all. It never really was.

"We need to go," I tell her, already scanning the gardens for the quickest escape route. "Now. Come with me, please." I reach up, brushing my thumb across the edge of her jaw. “I can’t live without you, Estella, and I can’t leave you here to let him hurt you. If I stay, I die. If we leave—I don’t know what happens. But I need you. I love you. Please come with me.”

Estella's eyes dart between me and Vito, who's slurring orders into his phone. "My father?—"

"Will hunt us down. I know." I take her hand, squeezing it gently. "But we'll have a head start if we leave now."

For a moment, she hesitates, and I think she might refuse. Then her chin lifts, that familiar determination hardening her features. "The east gate. Where we left to go to Marilee’s party. There's that service road?—"

"You're not going anywhere," Vito snarls, struggling to his feet. Blood drips from his nose, staining his expensive suit. "Gallo's whore daughter and her guard dog. How fucking poetic."

I step in front of Estella, shielding her with my body. "Watch your mouth."

He laughs, a wet, ugly sound. "Or what? You're already dead, Sinclair. The only question is how long it takes." He gestures toward the mansion with his phone. "My men are coming. Antony's men too. You think you can outrun all of them?"

As if on cue, I hear shouts from the direction of the house. Footsteps pounding on the garden stones, heading our way. They're coming.

"Sebastian," Estella whispers, her hand finding mine. "We have to go."

My heart leaps in my chest at the knowledge that she’s coming with me, even as I can’t help doubting whether or not I’ve made the right choice. I’m putting her in danger—but she’s in danger here too. I’m afraid that it’s a losing game no matter what we do.

But I can’t walk away from her. If that’s the worst sin I've ever committed, then maybe I haven’t lived so bad of a life after all.

I nod, not taking my eyes off Vito. "Stay behind me."

I back away from Vito with quick, measured steps, keeping Estella behind me as we move toward the eastern edge of the garden where the high stone walls give way to a wrought iron gate. Vito watches us, a smirk twisting his bloodied lips.

"That's right, run," he taunts. "It'll be more fun to hunt you down."

The shouts grow louder. I catch glimpses of dark suits through the rose bushes, men fanning out through the garden. We're almost at the gate when Vito raises his voice.

"They're here! The east gate!"

"Fuck," I mutter, pulling Estella into a run. We sprint the last few yards to the gate, my hand already reaching for my gun. I've got six rounds. Not enough for all of them, but enough to buy us time.

The gate is locked with a heavy chain wound through the bars. I fire a shot at the padlock, the sound echoing through the garden. The lock shatters, and I kick the gate open, pulling Estella through.

We've barely made it three steps when four men round the corner of the wall. Vito's men, not Antony's—I think, anyway. I don’t recognize them, and they’re dressed in suits, whereas Antony’s security is usually dressed more casually.

But then again, I didn’t recognize the men that Antony brought to beat the shit out of me, either.

The first one raises his gun, but I'm faster, putting a bullet in his shoulder. He goes down with a scream.

The other three hesitate, which is all the opening I need. I fire twice more, not aiming to kill but to disable. One takes a hit to the leg, another to the arm. The third ducks behind a hedge.

"Come on," I urge Estella, tugging her toward the service road that winds away from the mansion. We're exposed here, too visible. We need cover, and we need a vehicle. My motorcycle is parked in the staff parking lot, clear on the other side of the mansion. We’d never make it before Antony or Vito’s men caught us.

As if reading my thoughts, Estella points to a black sedan parked fifty yards down the road. "That's one of the catering staff's cars. Keys might be in it."

We make a break for it, keeping low. Behind us, I hear Vito bellowing orders, the sound of more men pouring through the gate. The sedan is our only chance.

We're halfway there when a shot rings out, the bullet kicking up dirt at our feet. I push Estella down behind a low stone wall that borders the road.

"Stay here," I tell her, peering over the top. Three more of Vito's men are advancing, using the trees for cover. I have three bullets left.

I take a deep breath, steadying my aim, then rise up and fire in quick succession. Two shots find their marks—one man goes down clutching his thigh, another his shoulder. The third bullet misses as my target dives for cover.

"Sebastian!" Estella cries out, and I turn to see two more men approaching from the other direction. They've circled around, cutting off our path to the car.

I'm out of bullets. But I'm not out of options.

"When I move, you run for the car," I tell her, my voice low and urgent. "Check for keys. If they're not there and it’s unlocked, get in and stay low. If it’s locked, hide behind it. I can hotwire the car, but we’ll have to be fast.”

Estella nods, a tight, quick motion, her eyes wide with fear and her face bloodless. But she’s not panicking, not outwardly at least, and I’m proud of her for that.

"Good. On my signal, run. Don't look back."

I don't wait for her to argue. I move forward with quick, sure strides, charging straight at the two men blocking our path. They're startled by the direct assault, hesitating just long enough for me to close the distance.

The first one raises his gun, but I'm already on him, knocking it aside as I drive my fist into his solar plexus.

He doubles over, and I bring my knee up into his face.

The second man gets a shot off, but it goes wide as I pivot, using the first man's body as a shield.

I lunge forward, tackling him to the ground.

We grapple in the dirt, his gun trapped between us.

I slam my elbow into his throat—once, twice, until his grip loosens.

I wrench the weapon free and crack the butt of it against his temple. He goes limp beneath me.

"Now, Estella!" I shout, turning the gun on the men still advancing from the gate. I fire twice, forcing them to take cover. I have no idea how many shots are left in the weapon I grabbed, but we need to be fast. There might only be one or two bullets left.

Estella sprints for the car, her dress billowing behind her, a flare of pink in the darkness. She reaches it, yanking at the door handle. It opens—thank God whoever drove it here was in a hurry—and she slides in.

I keep firing until the gun clicks empty, backing toward the car, keeping the men pinned down.

Through the windshield, I see Estella frantically searching for keys, and I run for the driver’s side, motioning for her to get in the back as I bend down and yank at the wires under the steering column.

The men will be coming now, fast, and we don’t have time.

Thank fuck I know how to hotwire a car in a few seconds flat. The engine roars to life just as I hear bullets pinging off the gravel, and I floor it, wrenching the steering wheel to one side as the sedan lurches forward for all it’s worth.

The tires spin, kicking up gravel before finding purchase. We lurch forward, accelerating down the service road.

In the rearview mirror, I see Vito emerge from the gate, his face a mask of fury as he watches us escape. He raises his arm, pointing at the retreating car, his mouth forming words I can't hear but can imagine: Find them. Kill him. Bring her back.

In the rearview mirror, I see Estella start to push herself up from the backseat, and I motion quickly with one hand for her to stay down. The knuckles of my other hand are white against the steering wheel as I make a hard left, heading to the highway.

“They’ll find us, Sebastian,” she whispers. “My father has connections everywhere. Vito, too. They’ll never stop hunting us?—”

“I have some connections.” Not the kind they do, and we both know it. But I have determination, and I love the woman watching me from the backseat more than I love my own life. That has to fucking count for something, right?

“Where are we going?” Estella asks after a moment, and I let out a long breath.

“In the long run? I don’t know. But for now?”

I look over my shoulder at her, disheveled and frightened in the backseat of the sedan. “We’re going home.”