Page 92 of The Chaos She Brings
He immediately starts fussing, trying to see my injury.
I push him off. “It’s just a scrape, a bullet grazed me. I’m okay.” The stinging pain in my side tells me I might be lying, but it could have been much worse.
The sound of footsteps starts filling up the room, it sounds like there’s an army of them. Nico whispers in my ear, “When I tell you to run, you run. Got it?”
“What about you?” I murmur, anxiety racing through me as the footsteps get closer.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Just get out of here, find a phone and call Enzo.” He waits for me to nod, eyes pleading with me to listen.
A shadow falls over us and we look up to see a woman staring down at us. Nico swallows audibly. I don’t know who she is but it’s clear that he does from the fear in his expression.
Nico’s body is positioned in front of me, shielding me from danger, but that doesn’t bring me any comfort. I don’t want him to get hurt.
Nico leans towards me, his breath brushing against my skin, “Remember what I said.”
I nod again, my throat too thick to speak. I don’t want to leave him.
“Hand her over, and this doesn’t get messy,” the woman says, speaking for the first time. She’s dressed in a vintage black dress, one that highlights her figure, and her hair is fiery red. Her accent has a Russian lilt to it.
Nico stands, pulling me up with him while keeping me tucked behind him.
From our position, there’s a direct line to the door. There’s four men, all surrounding the woman, leaving us with an opening, if only they weren’t all armed.
Nico's hold on me tightens.
“Tess?” he says, ignoring the woman who looks like she’s two seconds from ripping us apart. His face fills with an expression I can’t place, and I’m almost scared for what he might be aboutto say.
“Now.” He shoves me away from him, and I stumble as I’m pushed towards the open doorway.
Everyone jumps into action. Gunshots ring out once more, someone catches me round the middle, and I grab the closest object—a lamp of all things—and swing. It hits them in the face and the man stumbles giving me time to run.
I reach the door and look back, just in time to see Nico go down. A bullet tears through his chest.
A scream rips from my throat, and my legs feel like they’re made of lead.
I want to go to him. I want to save him. But his eyes are locked on mine, his face pale, and with a barely perceptible movement, he mouths, “Go.”
His last words to me.
I hesitate, terror and disbelief pooling in my chest. Then another guard lunges at me. I don’t think, I react. I swing the lamp again, hitting him in the side, then remember the gun I grabbed earlier. I lift it, aim, and fire blindly. The recoil makes my vision swim, but I don’t stop.
Stumbling backward, gunshots ring in my ears, my heart hammering. I back out of the house, barely aware of my surroundings, the panic clawing at my chest, and the desperate need to survive, to escape.
I make it to the street, my body burning with exhaustion and pain, my side throbbing, but I don’t stop. I can’t.
It feels like hours pass as I run, my lungs collapsing, my legs aching, but I force myself to keep going. I can’t think about Nico. Not now.
Finally, I burst into a corner shop, gasping for air, my vision blurry. The shopkeeper stares at me, wide-eyed, and I try to catch my breath.
“Phone,” I gasp, my voice hoarse.
The man hands me a phone. I don’t even hesitate. I dial Kai’s number—my heart twisting as I think of Nico. Of what I just left behind.
“Hello?” Kai’s voice crackles through the line, filled with apprehension.
“Nico’s dead,” I manage to whisper, the words barely leaving my lips before my vision fades to black and I crumple to the floor.
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