Page 101 of The Temptation

I can’t remember the last time I held her like this, but when she breaks down and begins to sob, something in my chest cracks wide open.

“Shh,” I say, running my hand down her bony spine. “He’s going to pay for this. I’ll make sure he never hurts you again.”

“I don’t deserve you,” she whispers into my chest.

That may be true, but I keep that to myself. When she starts to shiver, I release her and shrug out of my hoodie.

“Here, put this on,” I say, slipping it over her head. “Come. Let’s get you out of here. Once you’re safe, I’m going to hunt that fucker down.”

Her arms slip through the sleeves slowly, and when she winces, my anger flares back to life. She clutches the front of the hoodie, like it’s tethering her, before bringing it to her nose.

“This smells nice.”

“What?” I ask, frowning, because that’s such an odd thing to say in a situation like this.

She looks up at me with those familiar, tired eyes, the same ones I remember watching through the crack in my bedroom door when I was a kid. They always held so much pain and too many secrets.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” she says, her voice is unsteady, like she’s barely holding herself together.

I stop and turn back to face her fully. “What is it?”

She doesn’t answer right away. Her hand lifts slowly to the cut on her forehead, and when her fingers brush over it, she flinches as if it burns. The silence stretches too long. I feel it tightening in my chest.

Then her shoulders drop. She won’t meet my eyes.

“Don’t be afraid,” she whispers. “They’re not here for you.”

“They? What do you mean?”

At first, I think she’s confused … concussed. Maybe the hit to her head scrambled her thoughts. Perhaps she doesn’t even know what she’s saying. But then she looks at me, and her expression is so heartbreakingly clear that the bottom falls out of my stomach.

“They just want the girl,” she whispers.

Lucia.

I glance back in the direction of the car, ready to make a run for it, but before I can, two men step out of the shadows behind the swings.

Their movements are quiet, practised, like they’ve done this before. One is tall and heavyset, the other thinner and twitching with energy, and my pulse kicks into overdrive.

I don’t hesitate. My hand shoots behind me, and my fingers wrap around the grip of the gun I shoved into the back of my sweats. The big guy is the first to fall as I put a bullet straight between his eyes.

My mother screams and squats down, clutching her head in her hands. She’s lucky she doesn’t receive the same fate for what she’s done.

The second guy rushes me before I get a chance to take him out as well. And it’s not until he’s right in front of me that I see the glint of silver in his hand as he thrusts it in my direction.

I twist my body, but I’m not quick enough. The knife slices through my skin like butter, just below my ribcage.

The initial sting morphs into a searing hot burn when the blade sinks in further, but as soon as he pulls back, ready to strike again, my survival mode kicks in.

Father Flannery touched on knife attacks during my training. His best advice was that if I were in an open space, like I am now, with room to move, I should run. But I can’t do that.I can’t.

If I’m going to keep Lucia safe, I have to take this fucker out. I was taught that if I were in a situation where fleeing wasn’t an option, then my best chance of survival would be to secure the weapon. So I do that instead.

I lunge forward, staying low as my shoulder slams into his chest with bone-jarring force. In the same breath, my hand locks onto his wrist and yanks it tight against my side, holding it there with unyielding pressure.

He grabs a chunk of my hair with his free hand and sinks his teeth into the cartilage of my ear. But before he gets a chance to take hold, I shove the gun into his abdomen and fire two shots. He goes down like a bag of shit.

He’s still alive, but not for long.