Page 61 of Ruthless King
But some part of me must find that so fucking hilarious. I’m still laughing as I stagger to my feet. There’s no aim in mind—just a need to keep moving. Breathing. I’ll suffocate if I stay still. So, I pace the length of the room, watching the blood spread across the floor. I can smell it, salt, and copper. Taste it on my fucking tongue.
And Vin…
I can’t look at him fully. Not yet.
I can’t fucking look. All I can do is just register the silence. That looming, oppressive goddamn silence. The absence of his voice—I’ll never hear it again. It’s the same quiet that filled the air when I found Olivia and Nico.
And no matter how hard or how loudly I laugh…it never ends. So I shout. Scream. Yell until I can’t hear a damn thing but the rushing of my own heartbeat surging through my ears like a fucking taunt. He’s gone. He’s gone. He’s gone…
But then it’s like my mind clears all at once, and I remember the culprit.
The animal who did this.
Mischa.
I lunge for the safe in the living room, rip it open, and practically teleport to the front door, a gun in my hand. I’m aiming it blindly, hunting for a target.
But he’s already gone. All that’s left are tire tracks ripping across the lawn and my own men scattered about. Some look wounded, but I don’t even have the sense of mind to stop. Acknowledge them. Breathe.
I keep running, chasing a specter down to the end of the driveway. A noise finally pierces the fog encasing me—a gunshot. My finger throbs, cranking on the trigger, firing at nothing.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Doggedly, I’m racing toward the boundaries of the house. A car appears in the distance, and I aim for it, feeling my heart hammer against my chest. As it comes into view, I recognize the model—one of Fabio’s.
It slows beside me, and the driver’s side window lowers.
“God, Don…” His eyes take me in, widening in horror over my hands. My fucking hands…
I don’t know what I say to him, but whatever it is makes him curse under his breath. “Let me see him,” he says in a cautious tone. Then he drives, heading toward the house.
His reaction makes the reality even more real. Inescapable. Vin.
I’m frozen solid, gun still raised, chest pounding, heart on goddamn fire. I can’t even look at the house. I can’t…
But I can’t leave Vin there, unguarded and alone. In a daze, I return to the villa, staggering into the living room to find Fabio there crouched beside the body.
I surge toward him, swatting his hands away. “Get away from him—”
“He has a pulse,” the man says gently, rising to his feet. “We need to get him to a hospital.”
“What…” He might as well have punched me. Struck dumb, I shake my head to clear it and croak, “What did you say?”
“He has a pulse,” Fabio insists. He already has a cell phone in hand, rattling off a series of orders. “Bring a van around! We don’t have time to wait for an ambulance. Now!” Turning to me, he gestures toward my chest. “Take off your shirt and apply pressure to the wound.”
Apply pressure. While I’m not a doctor, I know that pressure won’t help a gunshot to the head. It won’t…
God knows I tried with Olivia. Even if it meant holding her skull together with my bare hands, I tried. Finally, I look over and groan aloud. Blood pools around him, clashing with the color of his skin. He’s so damn pale.
“Fab…” My voice breaks several times before I finally get a coherent word out. “His head…”
“Don.” Fabio grabs me by the collar, his eyes boring into mine. “Take a walk! Take a walk, brother. I’ve got this. I’ll take care of Vin. You take care of yourself. Keep your head, Donatello!”
Keep my head. A task easier said than done. It’s spinning as more men stream into the room, led by Javier, who clutches at his shoulder. Was he hit?
