Page 11 of Scorned Obsession

“Put the gun—” Sandro shouted. But then his shout was cut off with a loud cracking sound.

Renz grunted, and we started falling.

“Bianca!” Sandro’s anguished roar engulfed the rush in my ears, but my breath deserted me when I landed on top of Renz.

Another blast.

Then chaos erupted.

I scrambled off Renz with my heart lodged in my throat. Tears and disbelief clogged my words and I screamed, “No!”

My brother…

His entire left side was a map of red. I shifted to my knees, paralyzed in terror. “Where are you hit?”

“I dunno,” he wheezed. He was dazed, head moving from side to side, his eyes trying to stay open. “Liz…”

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” I sobbed. All my fault. I glanced up and screamed, “Call 911!” Tommy slid to his knees beside me and started ripping Renz’s shirt off.

There was a crush of people in the room. Sandro had a man up against the wall, and I spotted another man on the floor.

Everyone was talking at the same time. They were discussing how to clean up this mess. As in, we were the mess. Getting out of here alive was becoming an impossibility.

The stronger odds? Renz could die.

My eyes latched on to the gun that had fallen under an armchair. Without another thought, I scrambled for it and succeeded.

“Bianca,” Sandro gritted.

I raised the gun and shot at the ceiling before pointing it at Gian. Several guns pointed at me, but with Renz dying, fear had deserted me.

A thought in my head was on repeat. Renz was bleeding out, and it was all my fault.

“Call 911,” I repeated.

“No,” Gian sneered.

Sandro grabbed me from behind and divested me of the weapon. I jerked away from him and sank to my knees again in front of Renz, trying not to feel defeated. Trying not to surrender to the fear that Renz would die. Tommy was applying pressure to his chest wound. Blood spilled from Renz’s lips.

“We need the doc,” Tommy said.

“Already called him,” someone said.

I glared at Tommy. “He needs a hospital.”

Renz’s eyes were barely open, and he groaned, “Sorry, sis.”

“Why are you sorry? I was the one who messed up,” I choked.

“He needs a hospital,” I pleaded with Sandro, my voice cracking, my chest screwing tighter and tighter. It was getting harder to breathe.

He shook his head. “Can’t do that.”

“If he dies, I’ll never forgive you!”

“Excuse me?” Griselda jeered. “You’re blaming him when you were the one who crashed our party?”

“Griselda,” Sandro growled. “Not now. Not here. Can’t you see she’s distraught?”

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