Page 12 of Where Quiet Hearts Scream (Dark Hearts #3)

“But the progressions can change,” I remind her. “And you’re right—I don’t always have to act on them. I still have a mind of my own and can make a decision without using charts and cards when I absolutely have to.”

Her shoulders relax a little. “Okay, well that’s good. And after that I feel like I need a drink—hard liquor preferably.”

“Have you seen the whiskey bar?” I’m thankful for the change in topic.

“No…” A cheeky glint appears in Allegra’s eye.

“Let me show you.” I loop an arm through Allegra’s and back on safer, familiar ground, we leave the dancing in full swing and head back through the hotel.

With Allegra sufficiently occupied with a large glass of twenty-one-year-old Japanese whiskey in hand, I hover again on the edge of the dance floor.

I watch, happily, as Trilby twirls around and around, my smile stretching again from ear-to-ear, and the band moves seamlessly from one song to the next.

I’m floating on a sea of music and soft memories when the most alarming sound I’ve ever heard throws me into hyper-awareness.

“ Down! Down! Get down! ”

I turn around in slow motion, watching bodies drop to the ground, some bracing their hands behind their heads. My mouth falls open as I try to catch my breath.

One of Cristiano’s men throws himself through the air and lands on Trilby, shoving her to the floor. I’m about to cry out to her when a large hand slams into my back and I fall face-first onto the cold, hard tile.

Adrenalin thumps through my veins.

I’m going to die.

I have no idea what’s happening but the sounds around me are terrifying—screams, wails, yelling.

Gunshots .

Oh God.

Grown men pound across the room, stepping over our bodies like we’re roadkill. All the while, hands and voices remind us to stay the fuck down . Tears stream down my cheeks and my fingers are trembling so fast I can hardly feel them.

I lift my head a fraction. Trilby is across the dance floor to my right, buried beneath a man’s suited body, but I can’t see Tess or Bambi. Panic punches at my heart.

All the men have stopped running but the atmosphere in the function room is so tight it could snap at any moment. I pan to my left and my breath stalls halfway out my lungs.

Six men are standing in the middle of the room. Cristiano, his underboss Augie and the capo whose mom has been talking to Papa. And opposite them, three men I’ve never seen before in my life. But I can tell by the way they’re sneering at Cristiano and his men, they’re not friends.

Each one is holding a gun, their fingers poised on the triggers. It wouldn’t take much for a barrel to tip a fraction and a solid number of guests, including me, would be killed outright.

Blood seems to have drained from my head to my toes, making my vision swim.

The conversation between the men is tense, but I can’t hear what any of them are saying over the thump of my pulse.

Then a movement across the dance floor tears my focus to Benito.

He’s crouched down, his hand pressed onto…

My heartrate picks up even faster. I recognize Tess’s long black hair and dusky pink dress sprawled on the floor.

Oh, thank God, she’s alive.

Benito says something, then sweeps his arm forward and fires a bullet. It catches the closest of the three unfamiliar men in the temple. As the body falls to the ground, a gun slides across the floor and… oh God, no …

Tess is up on one knee gripping the gun with braced arms, but I can barely see her through the chaos of renewed shouts, screams and racing feet.

One of the strangers has bolted through the terrace doors.

Benito follows, the pop-pop of his bullets almost drowning out the sound of more gunshots coming from outside.

Then a guttural, blood-curdling scream draws everyone’s attention back to the center of the room, where Cristiano is standing with the barrel of a gun pressed into his jaw. I hold my breath, my heart thudding against my ribcage. My new brother can’t die now. Trilby wouldn’t survive it.

Then, a bullet flies from the right, catching the guy in the ribs.

Tess fired it.

The man stumbles, while Cristiano stands rock-still, watching him with no emotion on his face.

Then an enormous bang to my left almost shatters my eardrum, filling my vision with red.

The man flies backward with the force of a second bullet, and lands on the floor, the life seeping out of him in a glistening red wave.

I, along with the rest of the room, look round in slow motion to see who made the shot, then the blood in my veins freezes.

A shockingly familiar face is standing in the doorway to the terrace.

I feel as though my heart is going to burst out of my body it’s slamming so hard. In a heavy daze, I rise to my feet and press a palm to my chest.

In the distance I hear someone ask the stranger to introduce himself.

But I know who he is.

He’s Andrew .

My Andrew.

A hotel guest who probably has no idea what he’s walked into.

I’m willing him to look my way, so I can somehow urge him to leave while also reassuring him that this is not me . None of this is me. I want nothing to do with this blood bath of a life.

He said he wasn’t sure when he’d be back.

He must have returned to the hotel sooner than planned.

To see me?

The answer to that question falls from the dizzy heights of hopeful to the dark pit of my stomach where it languishes morbidly.

Andrew isn’t looking at me.

He isn’t even looking for me.

He’s addressing Cristiano and Benito, as though…

As though he knows who they are .

My gaze drops to the metal in his hand and I sway on my feet. He has a gun. A gun . And not just any gun—he has what looks like a sawn-off shotgun.

Benito’s low, bitten-out command fills the room. “Who are you?”

And I can’t help the puff of air escape my lips. “ Andrew?”

Many pair of eyes swivel in my direction, but his don’t.

Am I seeing things? Is this real?

Tense words are spoken but I can hear nothing but his name on the tip of my tongue, floating into the air, unheard.

There’s some talk of brotherhood, the Marchesi’s and Boston but it all swirls about me like a tornado, nothing making any sense.

His voice rises above all others. “ I’m taking Boston whether you like it or not. Wouldn’t you prefer to keep it in the family?”

His impatient sigh gives me something familiar to latch on to, even though his words make no sense at all.

Benito is suddenly impatient too, his tone as tight as the arm he’s wrapped around my sister. “What exactly do you want?”

The room falls silent, awaiting Andrew’s reply.

His gaze is locked on Bernadi and I wonder vaguely how they know each other.

I haven’t registered much of what’s been said because I’m so stunned to see Andrew here, in this room, negotiating with a bunch of mobsters and holding a gun for Christ’s sake.

When he passes his gun to the other hand and raises his right arm, chills cover my entire body.

In this moment, he doesn’t look like handsome, chivalrous Andrew, the man who has won me over in just two weeks with his warmth, thoughtfulness, and generosity.

Instead, his eyes glitter black, his jaw jutting forward like a sharp rock, his torso solid and somehow amplified in this testosterone-filled room. He looks like the darkest of devils.

I feel his pointed finger like a laser beam aimed at my heart, and when he opens his mouth, I may as well be dead, because suddenly everything becomes clear.

As clear as blood.

“I want her .”