Page 73 of Sapphires and Snakes
I can’t have been her downfall. She must survive. The urgent terror that’s gripped me since the moment Alonso stormed out of Saint Christopher’s heightens to a crescendo with the rising tension in the room. Zarina is so close. I can’t be stuck here, in the foyer, feet away from her, while she faces the brutal prince of Louredo alone. But I also can’t storm through the dozen men in here despite having a dozen of my own at my back.
“Hank.” The Gallo capo with the brooch speaks again. “Go get the little prince so our… friends can be on their way.” One of the Gallo men backs away from the crowd, up the stairs, gun aloft and aimed at the Accardis. The capo doesn’t look at us as he says, “Tamayos, get out.”
“We are not here to fight.” My voice lowers. “But I will not leave until Marcus does.”
“We’re not leaving at all,” the Accardi capo snaps.
The Gallo capo looks between me and the Accardi capo, his face hardening into deadly decision. I see it coming before he says a word, stepping backward into the entryway.
“Then we’ll make you,” he says.
And with those words, the tension that felt as solid as a stone wall finally explodes into violence.
As if synchronized, the Gallos and Accardis raise their guns and fire into each other. Their numbers are even, their weapons similar, and each group stands on either side of the grand staircase. The sound echoes around the room until there’s no beginning or end of the ricocheting bullets.
Immediately, three men fall as my people and I retreat into the entryway to take cover. We’re not much of a target, it seems. Stray bullets hit the walls ahead of us, the large potted plants oneither side of the archway. Hank, the Gallo ordered to retrieve Marcus, tries to escape up the stairs, but gets caught with a bullet to his chest.
The two factions take cover in opposite hallways, hiding in doorways, behind sculptures, on either side of the grand staircase. A stray shot hits the chandelier, and crystal tear drops fall to the floor. They can’t keep this up forever, but I don’t have time to wait them out.
I have to make a break for it.
Keeping my eyes on the foyer, on the two soldiers on either side of the staircase and therefore with the clearest shot of us, I speak to Darius. “This isn’t our fight. You all should go.”
“But you’re staying.” He ducks down to avoid a bullet aimed for his head. Plaster shatters, spraying us with dust.
I check my magazine—eight bullets left—and replace it in its chamber. “I’m going to the library.”
“Not alone.”
“Your choice.” I don’t elaborate, because I don’t have to. After years of being cornered in dangerous situations, whether it’s a gun fight or a brawl, Darius and I have developed a shorthand. He knows that I mean there’s no order here. Darius has a choice, and I won’t hold it against him if he chooses to leave.
Unsurprisingly, he ignores me. “Cover us,” he orders the capos. “We’re breaking for the stairs.”
“Don’t be stupid.” Wyrm shakes their head. “The stairs are wide open.”
“When we make it”—Darius ignores them—“you all get the fuck out of here.”
“We’re not leaving you,” Gemma says. Her face is no longer swollen, the bruises yellow tinged with green. I hope she doesn’t do anything stupid to prove herself.
“You will follow orders,” I snap back. “Get out of here.”
The capos scowl but don’t argue further. I turn back to the barrage that’s slowed to a trickle. A part of my brain that’s not analyzing the best time to dart across the foyer is wondering where the fuck the Gallos’ backup is. There have to be people at the perimeter, in a security room,somewherein this house, who can come help their comrades. But no one’s showed up. And that’s more disconcerting than anything else.
The shots have slowed, the men likely realizing they only have so many left. I suck in a breath. Insults are flying across the room in place of bullets. Each one makes me want to knock all their heads together for how fucking petty this shit is. The Gallo princess is in danger, but sure, waste time calling the Accardis bastard sons of whores like it fucking matters.
“On three.” I hold up my fist, counting down the seconds.
One. My eyes flick between the groups still hunkered down for cover.
Two. I lock my gaze onto the Accardi man on the right of the stairs, because I know, without a doubt, Darius will go left. And I trust that my people will distract everyone else.
Three.
We dart out from the entryway, keeping our heads low and sprinting across the tiled foyer. Gunfire rattles the space, tiles and walls bursting with each missed shot. I keep running. The moment I hesitate is the moment I die, and I can’t allow that.
Zarina is too close to fail now.
My guy beside the stairs lifts his arm to shoot, but I fire first. He ducks down, and I don’t let up. I want him too scared to stand or incapacitated. I pull my trigger in quick succession, counting the shots as I take the stairs two at a time. I don’t wait for Darius, don’t even look to see where he’s at or whether he’s okay. I can’t help him. Not yet.
