Page 19 of Crimson Reign

The nurse gives me a reassuring smile as she takes my daughter away, and I have to fight the urge to snatch her back. Matteo places his hands on my shoulder, silently comforting me.

"I need some air," I manage finally. "Just... five minutes."

Matteo sighs, but a look of understanding flashes across his face. "I'll have Valentino stay with you."

The night air is cool against my skin as I step into the small courtyard. Valentino keeps a respectful distance, his eyes constantly scanning our surroundings.

That's when I notice it. The too-casual way a man in scrubs is leaning against the wall. Expensive leather shoes instead of practical nursing clogs. A slight bulge beneath his uniform.

My body reacts before my mind can catch up. I duck just as he reaches for something at his waistband.

"Gun!" I shout, but it's too late.

Valentino goes down instantly, blood blooming across his chest. The assassin turns to me next, his face emotionless as he raises the weapon again.

My hand finds the small blade Matteo insisted I keep with me.

His voice echoes in my head.

Close the distance if you can't run. Aim for vulnerable spots. Throat. Eyes. Don't hesitate.

The assassin isn't expecting me to charge him. His eyes widen as I lunge forward, my body remembering the movements Matteo drilled into me.

The gun fires again, but I'm already inside his reach, the bullet grazing my arm. I slash upward with the knife, catching him across the face.

He snarls, dropping the gun to grab me by the throat. His fingers dig in like iron bands, cutting off my air. Black spots dance at the edges of my vision.

Don't panic. Use his strength against him.

I go limp suddenly, making the assassin overbalance. As his grip loosens, I drive my knee up between his legs with every ounce of strength I have.

He doubles over, and I slash again with the knife. The blade sinks into his neck, hot blood spilling over my fingers as he gurgles.

Even wounded, he lunges for me. I stumble backward, tripping on Valentino's body.

Bam!

A shot rings out. The assassin jerks once, a perfect red hole appearing in his forehead, before he collapses.

Matteo stands in the doorway, gun extended. Then he's across the space in seconds, pulling me to my feet.

"Elena," he said, his usually gruff voice filled with relief. "Are you hurt?"

"Not mine," I say, gesturing to the blood. "Except—" I glance at the graze on my arm.

His eyes move to the knife still clutched in my bloody hand, and something shifts in his expression. Something like pride.

"You fought back," he hisses.

"Like you taught me."

His eyes meet mine, a storm of emotions I can't name. Relief. Rage. Something else.

Then, with no warning, he pulls me against him and his mouth claims mine in a kiss that's desperate and hungry and tastes like fear and relief.

I should push him away. I should remember who he is, what he does.

Instead, I kiss him back, pulling him closer as if I could crawl inside the warmth and safety of him.

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