Page 113 of Blood Debt
We keep moving. Step by step, my arm aching from Isla’s weight, my pulse hammering in my ears.
Finally, the corridor thins.
It’s here that I notice Alessandra faltering. Her breaths come shallow and ragged, her free hand clutching her side. Crimson seeps between her fingers, spreading dark across the fabric. Her once perfect poise is unraveling, her porcelain face drained of color.
For the first time, she looks…fragile.
But the gun is still steady in her hand. And her eyes, though dimming, never stop burning holes through me.
I tap Isla’s arm twice. A signal. Her glazed eyes meet mine, confusion flickering, but she understands enough to shift, pressing herself against the wall for balance.
Alessandra’s voice cracks the air.
“Move, damn it!” she yells, jabbing the gun toward Isla.
I don’t move toward Isla. I move toward her.
I launch myself forward, catching her off guard. My shoulder slams into her chest, and she staggers, gasping as her back collides with the wall. Her gun swings wild, the shot ringing into the ceiling, plaster dust raining down.
I grab for her wrist, twisting it hard. She snarls, fighting back with surprising strength even through her bleeding side. Her knee drives up toward my ribs, but I pivot, slamming my elbow down into her wound.
She screams. Her body buckles, and the gun clatters to the floor. I don’t think—I react. I kick it toward me, scoop it up, and aim it at her face.
Alessandra’s eyes blaze with hatred, lips pulled back in a snarl. She’s pale now, trembling, one hand clutching her torn side. Still, she tries to spit words like venom. “You stupid—”
“Shut up,” I snap, my own voice shaking with rage. My hand trembles, not from fear but from the sheer adrenaline coursing through me.
Behind me, Isla groans. My head whips back—her body sliding down the wall. I rush to her, pocketing the gun, my free arm circling her waist to hold her upright.
“Serafina….” Her voice is barely a whisper. She’s drenched in sweat, her face ashen. “I’m slowing you down. Go. Find Bianca.”
“No.” My voice cracks. I grip her tighter. “I am not leaving you.”
Her hand, shaking, finds my wrist. “I can’t walk. And you know it.” Her lips twitch in something like a smile, though pain distorts it. “Bianca needs you more.”
Tears blur my vision. I shake my head violently. “No, no, Isla, don’t you dare—”
She winces, shifting her body against the wall. “Help me to a corner. I’ll be fine.”
I swallow the lump in my throat, dragging her to a shadowed alcove. She slides down carefully, biting back a cry as her body folds into itself. My chest aches so badly I can hardly breathe.
“I’ll come back for you,” I whisper, pressing my forehead to hers for a fleeting second.
She nods weakly, her eyes glassy. “I know.”
My fingers curl around the gun. My heart pounds so hard it hurts. I force myself to stand, to step away, even though every instinct screams to stay with her.
For Bianca, I remind myself. For her.
My chest heaves as I run, every step thunderous in my ears. Bianca. I need to find Bianca. The thought repeats, a prayer and a curse. My lungs burn, but I don’t stop.
I skid around a corner—straight into two armed men. Their guns swing up, but I’m faster. My body slams into the first man, knocking his weapon to the side as I ram my knee into his stomach. He doubles over, groaning. I wrench the gun from his hand, but the second one grabs my braid, yanking me back. Pain sears my scalp, and a cry escapes my lips.
“Bitch!” he snarls, shoving me toward the wall.
I twist at the last second, driving my elbow into his jaw with all the strength I have. He stumbles but doesn’t fall. He swings at me, a fist grazing my cheek so hard stars burst acrossmy vision. My knees weaken, my body begging to crumple, but I force myself upright.
I shove the barrel of the stolen gun under his chin and pull the trigger. The recoil kicks my arm back, the sound deafening. His body collapses at my feet. The first man, recovering, lunges, but I fire again, the bullet tearing through his shoulder. He screams, falling to the ground, and I finish him with a hard kick to the temple. He goes limp.
