Page 110 of BounBound By Scars

Wait… I needed to look scared.

I staggered back a little, eyes wide, lips parting. “What? No, I—I don’t think that’s—”

A hand gripped my upper arm. Fast. From behind.

And instinct kicked in.

My elbow slammed backward into the guy’s nose. I heard cartilage crunch. He cursed, let go, stumbled back.

Shit. Reflex.

They knew now.

“Questa è lei,” one barked. Their movements tightened instantly.

“Fuck it,” I hissed under my breath.

One drew his gun.

I kicked it out of his hand.

The next one lunged—I pivoted, grabbed his wrist, twisted. The gun discharged once into the floor, silenced. I took his weapon and fired at the one closest to me.

Chest. Clean hit.

Five left.

A fist connected with my jaw. My head whipped sideways, pain blooming up my temple.

“Goddamn it,” I spat blood.

Another grabbed my waist. I slammed my heel into his shin and elbowed his solar plexus. He buckled. I turned, used the fallen man’s body to pivot, kicked out at the next attacker’s leg.

I could hear my own breathing now. Rapid. Controlled.

Adrenaline sang in my veins.

But they were trained too.

They all came at once. Someone wrenched my arm behind my back—too strong. I screamed. The other ripped at my dress.

The sound of silk tearing echoed like a gunshot in my head.

I growled. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

They didn’t care.

My knee connected with one groin. The hold loosened. I broke free—but not in time.

Pop.

A muffled shot. My chest jerked.

I staggered.

Looked down.

Blood bloomed across my bodice.

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