Page 207 of Salvatore

“Bullshit.”

I check my magazine. Twelve rounds left. “You expect Gabriel’s daughter would be welcomed into Lorenzo’s penthouse?”

“I think she would—if pregnant.” Alonso peeks up from the sofa, firing a shot that thunks into the stone counter a few inches above my head before disappearing again. “Tell me, Salvatore, is that poor excuse for a child yours?”

I’m tempted to tell him. To brag about my achievement. But Ivy’s right. It’ll only make her and the baby more of a target. “I’m not surprised you bought that fake medical report.”

Movement sounds to my left. I pivot and fire blind shots.

“Was it fake though?” He’s on the move. Approaching. “One of Lorenzo’s guards already told us?—”

I open fire toward his voice.Pop. Pop. Pop. More footsteps carry from the others. They’re closing in.

I scramble to reposition, pushing myself onto my knees, searching for a better angle. As I shift, a bullet rips through the outside of my thigh.

Motherfucker.

I grit my teeth, dragging myself farther around the island.

Bullets slam into the counter, right above my head, the kitchen a storm of flying shrapnel and plaster dust.

I’m as good as cooked, fucking done, but so goddamn desperate not to fail Ivy.

I wait for the chaos to pause, then shoot back as I snatch my cell from my pants pocket, typing another message to my brothers.

Salvatore

Save Ivy and my child. If anything happens to them I’ll fucking haunt you.

The footsteps get louder. Closer.

I swing around the other side of the island. Find a target. Pull the trigger. Get a hollow click.

Shit.

“Sounds like you’re out of bullets.” The asshole smirks.

I scramble toward the kitchen drawers, leaving a bloody trail behind me as I snatch a knife, the footfalls rushing forward.

I spin and launch at the guy, slamming him into the cupboards, sinking the blade into his neck over and over. I’m about to turn and haul his body in front of me as a human shield when the barrel of a gun presses to the back of my head.

“Give me an excuse to pull the trigger,” Alonso drawls, making my blood run cold. “I promise it will be a quicker death than what my father has planned for you.”

I still, the sickening creep of dread climbing up my throat. I stare at the chipped and skewed cupboards, imagining what Ivy must be seeing, feeling nothing but the fucking brutal realization that my time has come to an end mere weeks after finding a reason to live.

Alonso leans in, the putrid stench of body odor and tobacco emanating from him. “Say good night,puta.”

44

IVY

I slapa hand over my mouth, holding in a scream as Salvatore falls to the floor in a limp heap—not from the gunshot I expect, but a savage blow to the back of the head.

I text another frantic message to Liv.

Ivy

Tell Remy to hurry. They have Salvatore.

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