Page 180 of The Wicked

“We’ll talk about this later.”

“Fuck you.”

I had something to prove.

So I didn’t exactlystay by his side, always.

It was chaotic when we got down. Bullets ricocheting, bystanders running to leave the building, most getting caught in the crossfire or being used as human shields for the assassins, but I was prepared, managing to take down one of them in two missed shots and one hit.

At first, we were a little outnumbered. But thankfully backup had rushed into the evacuating building, and Angelo had pulled Elio over to some of the new soldiers, who were now working towards securing the building’s perimeter.

At the little distraction, I took the opportunity to chase down two of the shooters I’d spotted taking the stairs to get to the emergency elevator, seeing as Marino’s people had secured the main elevator.

It was foolish to disappear alone with these guys scattered around the building—but I saw an opportunity to end this, and I took it.

I spotted both guys coming off the stairs and approaching the elevator, their backs to me.

I had an advantage because while the guns outstretched in their hands moved this way and that as if someone would pop out and jump them, I held a gun in each hand. Aiming one barrel at the calf of the guy on the left, and pointing the other to the top shoulder of the guy on the right, I calculated my next moves in my head. Then I pulled the triggers as I ran towards them, my feet slamming into the calf of the guy on the left.

He went down sharply with a loud grunt, turning swiftly to shoot at the same time the other one collected himself, holding his wounded shoulder as he snapped back, aiming the gun at me, but I already had my gun aimed at him.

He shot the same time I pulled the trigger, but I’d anticipated his move and dodged as my bullet pierced through his hand, his gun falling the moment my feet swung, knocking the gun from the guy whose calf I had shot.

It all happened in an adrenaline rush as I quickly kicked the guns far away from their reach, standing where I could face them, my weapons aimed directly at them.

The one whose hand I’d shot bared his teeth in a groan, about to charge forward.

“I would hold off if I were you.” I kept my guns aimed at them, looking up around the top corners of the hallway and then back at them. They made no further move to attack. “Who sent you?”

They were alert, faces hard in pain.

“We are not here for you,” one of them said with a thick Italian accent.

“Obviously, but you almost killed my friend, you fucking idiot, so here’s how we’re going to do it.” My grip tightened on the gun. “I will kill one of you and hand the other over to Marino’s people. Who is willing to die? Discuss amongst yourselves; make it snappy.”

“Go to hell,” the one whose shoulder I had shot spat at me.

“Nice choice.”

I aimed my gun at the guy I had shot in the calf, pulling the trigger.

His body dropped to the ground.

“Zahra!” Elio’s voice rang into the space, and I turned to see one of the assassins right behind me, a barrel pointed right to my head just before a loud bang pierced through the air. My whole body shook, and I stared wide-eyed as the assassin’s gun clattered to the ground before his body followed.

Elio stood there, fuming, gun pointed right at me before he lowered it.

I swallowed. “Well, that could have been bad.”

He rushed to me. “What part of staying by my side don’t youfuckingunderstand?” he gritted as his men rushed upstairs.

“I thought I’d bring you your man for questioning; you can ask him if he’s seen me before.”

“Right, because you didn’t spend enough time disarming and killing one of them. Many words could have been exchanged.”

My heart dropped. “Are you—”

“Shut up,” he said before turning to his men. “Clean this up,” he ordered before gesturing to the other man. “Take this one in. Inform Angelo that I’ll contact him.”