Page 77 of Wounded King

A car is already waiting for us when we exit the lobby at a run, pushing some pedestrians out of the way who curse after us.

Fuck.

I call Alejandro while climbing into the large SUV, nodding at Marco, the driver, "When you were driving Violet, did you ever have the sense that you were being followed?"

"No, sir. Never. I would have informed you." He answers. That's what I thought, but I needed the confirmation. I don't respond and hang up.

"The team is almost there," Luciano advises.

"Dammit, Marco, who taught you how to drive. Hit the gas." I yell at him.

I pull my gun and check it. I know it's locked and loaded, I make sure of it every morning, but my hands need something to do. Soon these bullets will end the assholes who think they can lay a hand on my Violet.

"If anything happens to her," I mutter, not liking the idea at all. There is only one way now to keep her safe, and I vow to take it. I don't care what she says, like it or not. She's in.

I don't feel guilt, only relief that she will finally be mine, the way it's supposed to be. To hell with her objections.

The restaurant appears ahead, and I notice four men in dark suits entering. I'm already unbuckling as I yell, "Stop the car," and jump out.

"Fuck, Marcello," Luciano yells and follows suit. Both of us have our guns at the ready.

A scream sounds out over the noise of New York traffic.

"It's from the alley," Luciano yells, and we change direction from the main entrance to the alley behind the restaurant, while Luciano is barking orders into his phone. From nearby, I hear the screeching of tires. There is no time to turn and check if it's friend or foe. It doesn't matter. If it's foe, I will take them out. Adrenaline pumps through my veins in anticipation of the fight. This is what I live for. But for the first time in my life, I'm afraid. Not for me. For Violet. If something happens to her, I will wade through blood to avenge her. The streets will spill over with it and drown anybody stupid enough to cross me.

I don't think I'm breathing until I see her.

Two men must have waited for them in the alley, anticipating that she might try to flee that way. That means the other four men will step out of the side door at any minute now.

My blood turns to ice, as it always does before a battle.

The two men have their backs to us. They haven't noticed Luciano and me closing in, too preoccupied with trying to corner Violet and the redhead beside her. The other girl's holding up a trashcan lid like a makeshift shield. Useless as a weapon, maybe—but it's keeping the bastards at bay just long enough for us to shift the playing field.

"I want at least two of them alive," I snarl at Luciano.

Luciano nods, his eyes hard and focused on the attackers in front of us. We move swiftly, our footsteps are silent on the pavement as we close the distance in the narrow alley filled with the cloying smell of garbage and old food.

In one swift movement, I charge one of the two, my adrenaline fueling me as I tackle him to the ground. He grunts in surprise, his grip on Violet loosens, who takes the opportunity to break free.

The redheaded girl next to her swings the trashcan lid with surprising strength, catching the second man off guard. When he stumbles back, Luciano is quick to move in, disarming him before he has a chance to recover.

Suddenly, the side door bursts open, and the remaining four men spill out, their guns glinting in the dim alleyway. I step in front of Violet and her friend, shielding them from the incoming danger. Luciano positions himself beside me, his own gun at the ready.

Without warning, gunshots ring out by the back entry, and the sound echoes off the grimy walls. Luciano and I return fire, our movements are fluid and practiced as we engage the men who thought they could lay a hand on my Violet. Two of the assailants stay concealed by the door, but one of the others goes down with my bullet embedded in his chest.

Violet stays right next to me; I can feel her trembling body.

"Stay down," I command.

Pain sears me as a bullet whizzes by my head, grazing my face. Looks like more assassins have arrived from the back.

"Get the girls back into the restaurant," I yell at Luciano as we duck, saved by luck from a spray of bullets. But eventually, our luck will run out. Probably sooner rather than later. We need to get the women out of here.

Ignoring the newly arriving assassins, I aim at the men blocking the door. Three bullets, three hits.

"Go!" I yell at Luciano.

He is too well-trained to protest, but I can read the anger in his eyes at not being given a choice. He grabs Violet by the arm and pushes her around the dead men, while I dive for cover behind a large dumpster and shoot at the newcomers.