Page 32 of With this Ring (Mastered #7)

A soul-wrenching scream tore across the phone line, followed by a blood-chilling pop.

Then a sickening thud.

And haunting, echoing silence.

Breathless, unable to move or think, she stood there.

“Petal?” Gregorio plucked the phone from her nerveless fingers and pushed the End button before handing it back to her.

“She was trying to warn me about…” She wrapped her arms around herself. “Jesus. They just fucking killed her.”

Around them, the air shifted, taking on an ominous quality that made the hairs on her nape rise. Her instincts, honed by years of training, shrieked with danger.

Gregorio went rigid, on high alert, reminding her of a predator catching the first hint of prey—or threat. When his dark eyes locked on hers, she saw her own awareness reflected there, that bone-deep certainty that something was terribly wrong.

“Let’s roll.” His voice was clipped, and he switched off his flashlight.

Instantly, she did the same.

Then—

A gunshot shattered the night.

The sound cracked through the silence like thunder, and Sasha jerked in response as her flight or fight instinct flooded her system.

The shot wasn’t close enough to pose immediate danger. Hawkeye, engaging the enemy?

Gregorio tapped her shoulder twice. “Back door.”

The screech of tires cut through the darkness outside—rubber burning against asphalt—followed immediately by the thunderous boom of a shotgun blast that shook the house.

Even though every instinct urged her to run, they stealthily made their way in the dark, leaving the office, hurrying down the hallway and back into the kitchen.

The back door exploded inward with a deafening crack, wood splintering as a black-clad figure surged through, weapon already raised.

Gregorio’s reaction was instantaneous. He grabbed Sasha, practically lifting her off her feet as he shoved her behind him. In the same fluid motion, he drew his weapon. His shot was fast and lethally precise, slamming into the intruder’s chest before the man could squeeze his trigger.

Another blast rocked the house—this time from the front entrance. The door didn’t just break open—it flew completely off its hinges, crashing against the entryway wall with enough force to crack the plaster.

“Shit.”

Argentum wasn’t just coming for them. They were coming with overwhelming force.

Gunfire erupted from both sides—deafening, brutal, relentless. The sounds bounced off the walls, creating a disorienting explosion of devastation.

Bullets tore through the drywall, kicking up clouds of plaster dust and raining debris over them. Gregorio was already moving, his grip on her wrist like iron as he yanked her toward the far side of the room.

The realization hit her with crystal clarity—they were being herded.

“We’re cut off.” Her voice barely carried over the chaos, but she knew Gregorio heard her.

His gaze swept the room with tactical precision, dark eyes taking in and discarding options with ruthless efficiency.

“Up the stairs.”

From the landing, they headed through the first door—into a bathroom.

He studied the far wall, and she followed his line of sight.

The window.

They had seconds. Maybe less.

A second-story exit was as stupid as it was dangerous, but what choice did they have?

Gregorio released her wrist just long enough to fire twice down the stairs, forcing their would-be assassins to take cover. Then he spun, weapon transitioning smoothly to target the window.

His first bullet struck the glass, creating a spiderweb of fractures.

The second shot blew it out completely, sharp fragments raining down like lethal diamonds.

“Go!”

Sasha didn’t hesitate. She threw herself at the opening, twisting mid-air as she crashed through what remained of the frame. The drop was farther than she’d anticipated, and she hit the ground hard, the impact jarring through her knees and up her spine. “Fuck.”

She forced herself to her feet.

Gregorio was right behind her—

A single shot rang out, distinct from the rest of the chaos.

Sasha whipped around in time to see Gregorio’s body jerk violently mid-leap.

Her stomach plummeted to her feet.

His landing was wrong—all his usual control absent as his body folded, crashing to the ground with brutal force.

“Gregorio!”

Terror clawing at her, Sasha scrambled to him, hands shaking as she grabbed at his jacket, desperately searching for the wound. When her fingers came away wet and sticky, her heart nearly stopped.

Darkness bloomed across his side, the fabric of his shirt growing steadily darker as blood seeped through.

Not his chest. Not immediately fatal. But still bad. Too bad.

His teeth clenched, jaw flexing as he sucked in a sharp breath. He was conscious, still moving, but she could see the strain in his features, the way his usual fluid strength had deserted him.

Another gunshot cracked through the night. Closer this time.

Sasha’s head snapped up, tactical awareness flooding back. “We gotta go, Gregorio.”

Figures were moving toward them, shadows outlined against the harsh glow of headlights. Their actions were coordinated, professional—the kind of efficiency that came from extensive training.

They were being hunted by experts. Definitely Argentum.

“Go.” Gregorio’s voice was rough with pain but still carried that note of command.

“No fucking way am I leaving you.”

“Goddamn it, Sasha. Fucking go. I mean it.”

Stubbornly, she shook her head. You never leave your partner . “Get off your ass and give me some help.”

“I’m warning you.”

“Yeah?” she demanded. “Fucking take it out on me later, when we make it out of here.”

Her pulse slamming against her ribs, she crouched to curl her arm under him, hauling him upright with strength born of desperation.

No time for panic. No room for fear.

Another shot rang out, missing them by inches, and her ears rang, shattering her hearing.

A counter shot came from near the fence.

Hawkeye.

Thank God.

Backup had bought them a short reprieve, thirty seconds, if they were lucky.

Gregorio stumbled forward, but he was too heavy, his usually powerful body refusing to fully cooperate. Blood continued to seep between her fingers where she tried to support him.

Too much blood. Far too much.

She blinked back tears.

She didn’t have time to think, only to act.

A vehicle roared up the street—headlights cutting through the darkness, tires screaming as they fought for purchase against the pavement.

A door flew open with enough force to rock the entire vehicle.

A familiar voice cut through the chaos—sharp, authoritative. “Get in!”

Sasha didn’t hesitate, didn’t question the salvation being offered.

She heaved Gregorio toward the SUV, raw terror lending her strength she shouldn’t have possessed. Gregorio barely managed to drag himself inside before Sasha threw herself in after him, her body instinctively curling around his as if she could shield him from further harm.

The door slammed shut behind them with brutal finality.

The moment the SUV accelerated away, bullets ripped through the night.

Sasha barely had time to process their escape before Gregorio’s weight slumped more heavily against her.

Her hands, slick with his blood, pressed desperately into his side, trying to stem the flow.

His eyes met hers—slightly dazed but still alert, still aware. Still fighting.

“Sasha…” His voice was rough, carrying something too raw, too broken. As if he needed to tell her something vital while he still could.

“Shh. Save your breath.” Fighting against the tears, she pressed harder against the wound, as if she could keep him anchored to this world through sheer force of will. “I’ve got you.”

She wasn’t sure if she meant it as a promise—or a desperate prayer to whatever gods might be listening.

The security gate swung open and the SUV roared forward, clipping the metal but not slowing down as a bullet shattered the rear window in a shower of safety glass.

When they hit an open road, the driver’s eyes met hers in the rearview mirror.

“Stryker.” She exhaled in relief. The best, among the best.

“Cut it a little close there, DiLuce.”

“Yeah,” she responded as lightly as she could.

Gregorio’s eyes rolled back in his head.

“How bad?”

Unable to answer, struggling to keep it together, she clamped her lips together before managing, “Drive faster.”

The vehicle fishtailed as he threw the vehicle around the next corner, the accelerator all the way to the floor.

He keyed a radio and spoke quietly.

She’d been in enough of these situations to know Inamorata had a hospital on standby, and that everything that could be done would be done.

Blood soaked everywhere, and she frantically shrugged out of her jacket, bunching the material against his wound.

“Stay with me.” Her voice cracked as she pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Don’t you dare leave me.”

Their rescuer took another corner at breakneck speed, tires screaming in protest. The SUV’s backend swung wide, and she braced herself against the door to keep from crushing Gregorio.

Stryker didn’t apologize, nor did she expect him to. “Red light ahead,” she warned.

Stryker didn’t slow. “Hang on.”

Horns blared as they shot through the intersection. A delivery truck swerved, barely missing them.

“We’ve got a tail.” Stryker’s voice was steady as he wrenched the wheel, cutting down a side street.

No. No. No.

“You have a gun?”

“Yeah.” Since the car wasn’t close enough for her to engage, she pressed harder on Gregorio’s wound. His skin was growing clammy, his breathing shallow and uneven.

“Come on, come on.” She wasn’t sure if she was talking to Gregorio or willing the vehicle to go faster. “Open your eyes for me.”

His lashes fluttered.

“That’s it.” Desperately, she smoothed a hand across his forehead, needing to touch him, to keep him with her.

Beneath a streetlight, his diamond earring winked, and she struggled against the lump in her throat. “Don’t you dare leave me.”

Another hard turn. Then another.

Frantically she steadied him. “Stay with me, Gregorio. Fight, damn it.”

She lost track of where they were, how fast they were going.

“Almost there.” Stryker’s voice was grim as he keyed the radio again.

Thankfully, the scream of sirens cut across the night air, and two police cars fell in behind them.

“Friendlies,” Stryker assured her.

Nodding, Sasha focused on the weak rise and fall of Gregorio’s chest beneath her hands.

Seconds stretched into eternities.

Then—finally—the hospital’s lights pierced the darkness ahead.

Rather than pulling up to the ER entrance, Stryker whipped the SUV around to a side door where a small group waited. Even in the darkness, she recognized Hawkeye’s commanding presence.

Before the vehicle completely stopped, her door was wrenched open.

“How long’s he been out?” Hawkeye demanded as medical personnel swarmed around them.

“Three minutes.” Her voice sounded foreign to her own ears. Too damn long . “Maybe four.”

The hospital staff loaded him onto a gurney with practiced efficiency.

“BP’s dropping—”

“At least one GSW—”

“Starting an IV—”

The clinical terms blurred together as she scrambled out after him. Her legs barely held her as she ran alongside the gurney into the hospital, her blood-covered hand finding his.

“Gregorio…” She couldn’t lose him. Not now. Not like this. “I need you.”

His fingers twitched in hers, but his eyes remained closed.

They crashed through a set of double doors, the gurney’s wheels squealing against the floor as they rounded a corner.

“Ma’am.” A nurse blocked her path. “You can’t go any farther.”

“But—”

“They’ll take good care of him.” Another set of hands caught her shoulders. “Let them work.”

She tried to follow as they wheeled Gregorio toward the operating room, but the walls were tilting, and her legs wouldn’t cooperate.

“Wait—” Her voice was hoarse and weak, but it didn’t matter. No one was listening. The doctors were shouting over each other, and the gurney kept moving.

Her vision blurred as she stumbled, barely catching herself on the doorway. The world narrowed to Gregorio’s bloodied chest, the too-pale shade of his skin.

This can’t be it.

With the last of her strength, she reached out and grabbed his wrist, fingers pressing against his cooling skin.

“Ma’am! You need to let go.”

“Gregorio…” She wasn’t even sure what she meant to say. Come back to me. Don’t leave me. I’m not ready to lose you. The words tangled on her tongue, but the ache in her chest said them all. I can’t live without you.

The gurney jolted as they turned a corner, and she lost her grip.

The world spun around her.

Then black sucked her under…