Page 73 of Souls and Sorrows

My hands come up to my cheeks, and I feign surprise. “Suchlanguage. Maybe I should spankyou—”

I cut off abruptly when he pulls a handgun from the back of his waistband, lifting and aiming it directly at me. Our eyes meet, and for a moment, I barely recognize the brown hues staring back at me, wild and unkempt in their fury.

Fear creeps up my sternum with its ghastly fingers, wrapping tight around my windpipe. I didn’t think he wasactuallymad at me, but now, I’m not so sure.

Last time, he was quick to reassure me.

Now, it’s all threat.

We stand there in silence for several harsh beats of my heart, both of us seemingly unwilling to acknowledge yet another shift in our relationship.

I’m not sure this is the sort of thing couples come back from. Even fake ones.

“You aren’t going to shoot me,” I say, trying again to test his restraint or his follow-through—I’m not really sure. I don’t exactly know what I’m doing, and I’m a bit afraid I’m close to fucking all of this up.

Papà would not be impressed.

Mamma would laugh at the inevitable and then probably shoot me herself.

“Ariana,” he repeats, sounding tired.

I wonder what happened in that interrogation room, but I don’t feel like now is the time to ask.

“Get. In. The. Car.”

“Ask nicely.”

His jaw shifts, clenching and unclenching as his stare hardens. Swiping his thumb over the safety, he unlocks the gun and cocks an eyebrow.

Slowly, I cross my arms over my chest, committed to the bit. Apprehension courses through my veins, setting my bloodstream afire, but I don’t budge, certain still that he’s bluffing.

The sudden, short popping sound echoes through the air, bouncing off the buildings surrounding us, and I squeeze my eyes shut to brace myself for pain.

It doesn’t come though.

And the scream that pierces the night sky doesn’t erupt from my throat.

22

Ronnie collapsesagainst the side of the limo, clutching at his bicep as a guttural sound escapes his throat. Ariana’s eyes flash open, widening when they land on the driver, and then she looks at me with complete disgust.

“Oh my God!” She rushes over to him, grabbing his arm and lowering him into a sitting position on the ground.

Sweat pours down the older man’s face, and his breaths come unevenly as he glares up at me through gritted teeth.

I watch the two of them, blind, inescapable anger still pumping directly into my heart. My hand shakes, and I switch the safety of the gun back on, pressing it into my thigh.

“Who shoots an innocent bystander?” Ariana asks in a high-pitched voice, more genuine emotion bleeding through than I’ve ever heard from her before.

So, she does care about people other than herself. Good to know, I suppose, though it’s clear she doesn’t give a shit aboutme. Otherwise, we’d be almost back at the penthouse by now, and I wouldn’t be close to heading inside the police station for a third time and finishing those officers off the way I really want to.

They deserve more than a simple tongue-lashing and administrative leave for harming something that belongs to me, but I left after their immediate punishment because I can wait.

Ariana is still crouched down, fretting over Ronnie. She shakes off my coat, using it to apply pressure to the wound as it continues spewing blood.

“He’s fine,” I say, approaching them. “It was barely a graze.”

Her head whips around, fury sketched across her face. It feels much less threatening when her tits are practically falling out of her pajama top though.

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