Page 74 of Sapphires and Snakes

I keep low below the railing, forcing anyone shooting to aim through the swooping and curling wrought iron latticework.Air burns through my lungs. Pain flares across my bicep, my hand spasming around my gun. But I keep going. Keep firing at the man beside the stairs. Keep ignoring everything but the overwhelming desperation to get to Zarina.

And then I roll into the hallway, slamming into the far wall. Darius is moments behind me. He grabs my hand and hauls me to my feet. We start down the empty hall without hesitation.

“You know where you’re going?” Darius mutters.

“Nope.” I only knew we had to go upstairs because Hank did. The house is huge, but I can’t think about that. Darius doesn’t react, simply trying each door as we pass. I do the same, clearing each empty room. My arm is throbbing, and blood sticks between my shirt and skin as it trickles from what is likely a graze. I don’t have time to stop and check. I can’t.

“Where the fuck is everyone?” Darius asks the question that keeps circling the back of my mind. “We got in here too easily. No backup has arrived. This can’t be all of them.”

I throw open a door to bathroom, empty. “Maybe they were keeping things small today.”

“Stupid,” Darius mutters.

“Or maybe they can’t afford their payroll anymore.”

“Or maybe”—Darius stands at the corner of the next intersection, back to the wall and gun aloft—“the Accardis made demands.”

“Definitely possible.” I press my back against the opposite wall and crane my neck to check the hallway as Darius does the same. About halfway down, a figure is slumped to the floor, legs sprawled, head lolled. Their bald head immediately rings a bell—G. Riccardo’s personal guard. I point my chin. “There.”

Darius clocks him, the lack of any other people, the quiet of the hallway. “How do you wanna play it?”

“Charge in?” I check my magazine again—one bullet left.

Darius gives me a look full of pleading disbelief. “Can we at leastlistenfirst?”

I don’t answer; it’s a stupid question. Because now that Zarina is within reach, there’s no way I’ll wait at the door, listening through the keyhole to whatever horrific bullshit Marcus is doing to her. I sprint down the hall without a word, and Darius curses. G doesn’t stir as we approach. Either he’s dead or concussed or playing opossum. I don’t care.

I grab the handle, and it gives under my grip. Darius is steps behind me as I throw the door wide open. I feel a hand grab at my thigh for a moment before a loud snap precedes a grunted gasp. But I don’t have ears or eyes or thought to spare for the obvious scuffle between G and Darius behind me. Not when the sight that greets me as I stumble through the door into the library is enough to frost over my veins.

Because fifteen feet in front of me, Zarina Gallo is covered in blood.

ZARINA

Ishove and shove and shove the knife into Danny’s throat until he’s forced to his feet. Blood pours over the hilt, down my wrist. His brown eyes are wide, that vicious grin replaced by a wide-open jaw and gurgling air. My grip stays strong as I maneuver him between myself and Marcus.

“Drop the gun.” Pat’s voice is too calm for this moment.

Marcus’s wide eyes flick between me, Danny—at whom he’s aiming his gun—and Pat aiming their gun at him. Savage delight rips up my spine at the surprise and rage and smallest tinge of fear on his face because ofme. Because with one well-placed thrust, I’ve upended his precious power.

He keeps his gun on me, Danny between us. “At this range, the bullet will go through him and hit her.”

Danny’s weight grows heavier, and I struggle to hold him up. I keep myself still, my muscles locked, unwilling to let Marcus see how close I am to dropping my human shield. “Is this the hill you want to die on, Marcus?” I call.

“I have the power here,” Marcus growls.

I snort and revel in the fact that I can. “Do you also have an army on the other side of that door? Any of us dies, and you won’t make it out of this house alive.”

Gunfire rattles somewhere else in the house, as if to illustrate my point. I don’t know what’s going or why. I don’t care. Mother stands still behind Father, like a rabbit trying to avoid the attention of a flying predator. Father’s breath is labored, but without wet sounds. I adjust my free hand, Danny no longer holding it captive as his body loses blood. Soon, he’ll droop into death.

“Here’s how this is gonna go,” I parrot Marcus’s words back to him as I yank the knife out of Danny’s throat. His chest falls onto my shoulder at the same time I pull his gun out of its holster and aim it under his arm at Marcus. Danny gurgles. Blood seeps onto my robe, sticking to my skin beneath. “Wedding’s off. You’re gonna take whoever you brought with you that’s still alive, and you’re gonna get the fuck out of my house. Danny’s body will be returned to you, unmarred.”

Except for the stab wound in his neck.

“Whether I stay or go, you’re all dead.” Marcus’s voice is full of quiet threat.

“By all means, stay and die with us. Because if I’m dying, you are, too. That’s a promise.” I glare at him, at the gun he has trained on my forehead. Marcus Accardi thought I was powerless, thought my family was worthless without its Cardinal status. He thought he’d stride in here andtakewhat little power we have left. But he hasn’t learned the most important lesson yet. None of them have.

Power is in the wielding, not the taking.