Page 238 of Mine Again
The sound of a blast rips through the air, a deep shudder rolling under my feet. Windows rattle in their frames, the chandelier above giving a sharp jolt.
Then silence, except for the ringing in my ears. The shock roots me in place, caught between disbelief and a wild, desperate hope.
My heart slams in my chest.
Luca is here.
Chapter Ninety-One
Isabella
BOOM.
A second blast follows, and plaster dust falls from the ceiling.
I duck under the table, keeping Hale in sight, disbelief cracking his mask.
A third explosion rolls in, a low concussion pressing through the walls like a heavy breath.
Picture frames rattle against the walls, Hale’s ridiculous portrait now hanging askew.
The floor doesn’t buck this time, but it hums with the aftershock.
For a heartbeat there’s only ringing silence. Then alarms wail to life, loud and ugly.
Shouting erupts in the halls. Boots hammer the floor. Radios squawk. Gunfire rips across the grounds in hard, relentless bursts, stuttering into a near-constant rattle.
The explosions didn’t come from the house. The sound rolled like thunder through the trees.
It has to be the gates. Charges big enough to bite through reinforced steel and concrete.
Luca.
Hale yanks open a drawer in the ornate desk and pulls a gun. Matte black. Heavy. The slide snaps, the safety clicks off. His hand is steady, his eyes colder than I’ve ever seen them.
He sweeps the room, searching for me. And I know exactly what he plans. Use me as leverage to make Luca surrender.
Not happening.
I spring from under the table and bolt.
A shot cracks behind me. A bullet whistles past my ear. Plaster bursts from the wall, peppering my skin with grit.
Fuck, he’s shooting at me.
I hurl myself through the doorway and sprint into the corridor, shoes skidding on the polished floor.
Gunfire barks outside in short, brutal bursts. Men shout on the grounds. The estate has turned into a battlefield.
“Halt,” someone yells behind me. Another voice swears. Hale’s footsteps hammer closer.
Another bullet snaps past me and shatters a vase on a stand, porcelain exploding across the floor.
I flinch, but there’s no time for fear.
I keep running, cutting right at the next intersection. In a split-second decision, I dive behind a heavy velvet curtain. Fabric breathes against my face. I hold my breath until my lungs burn.
Hale’s stride thunders past, close enough for me to feel the rush of air. He doesn’t slow.
