Page 67 of When We Fall: Part Two
I wasn’t going to make it. I would fight heaven and hell to get him back, though. I couldn’t lose him, like he couldn’t lose me.
Please, god, no. Please, don’t take him from me. Please… I’ll do anything. Anything!
I let out a cry as someone tripped over me. Then I was stepped on, pushing me to the ground as guests rushed through the smoke to get away.
In the distance, I saw Marissa on the floor, her eyes fixed in place, her body lifeless. My heart shattered further.
No, please…
Enzo. Cole. Ethan. FOX. PLEASE!
There were so many bodies. So much blood.
I cried out as fingers twisted in my hair and tugged me to my knees.
“Look what I found,” a man snarled through his mask. “Cousin.”
I was too weak to fight him off and had no idea what he was talking about.
“Too bad you’re dying. I’d have loved to fuck you at least once.” He dropped me to the floor before landing a solid kick into my side, which curled me up into a tight ball. He did it again and again until I really thought it was the end. He landed a fierce kick to my face, making the blood gush freely. I stopped moving; the pain was too intense.
He disappeared into the smoke as I choked out my guys’ names softly, my blood pooling slowly around me.
NINETEEN
ANSON
Ryder burst into my apartment, his hair disheveled, and his face red.
“P-Party,” he choked out. “A-Attack.”
“What?” I got to my feet from my couch. I’d only gotten home from Matteo’s a few minutes ago after spending the day with Bianca. We’d had a good day, even though it was a sad day. Bianca was a good listener and was kinder than Matteo gave her credit for.
“My phone. Died. Fuck. De Luca. Party. Fucking attacked.”
He didn’t even need to finish his sentence. I’d fought with myself all fucking day on whether I should go or not. Bianca even told me I should, and said it was unlikely Dom and the kings would attend since that would be dangerous for everyone. I didn’t want to cause problems and had decided it was best to remain home.
I grabbed a couple of weapons and raced out of my apartment, Ryder on my heels. Trent met me on the stairs, his eyes wide.
“How did you hear?” I demanded, going outside to my car. We piled in and squealed out of the lot.
“We were at Solomon’s,” Trent said from the backseat. “I left my phone at Ryder’s place. I overheard some Russian prick talking about De Luca getting taken out today, and that they were already there. He was drinking to his death.”
I tightened my hand on the steering wheel and pulled my phone out before tossing it to Ryder.
“Call Rosalie.”
He immediately pulled up her number as I took corners at breakneck speeds.
“Nothing,” Ryder said, going through my phone. He called someone else, but clearly no one answered that either.
“Fuck!” He snarled, his leg bouncing. “FUCK. Man.” He looked at me.
“Don’t fucking say it,” I whispered. “She’s OK. She’s strong.”
Ryder didn’t say a word, but he didn’t have to. I knew he was thinking the worst.
I pulled up behind the venue, noting the sound of sirens in the distance and smoke billowing out of the building. Screams sounded out, and more gunfire than I cared to ever fucking hear.
