Page 69 of The Bonventi Rise
That's when I hear it.
Thump. THUMP.
The sound echoes down the elevator shaft, growing louder as I ascend. My stomach twists into knots as I realize it's coming from Alina's floor.
Fifth floor.
Sixth floor.
The banging gets louder. More violent. What the fuck is that?
Seventh floor.
Eighth floor.
My heart plummets when I realize where the loud banging is coming from.
It's on Alina's floor.
I draw my gun, clicking off the safety.
The elevator stops. For a split second, there's silence. I point my gun at the door, readying myself for whatever's on the other side.
I'm coming, baby.
The doors slide open, and my heart stops.
Alina stumbles toward me, wearing my shirt, now stained crimson. Blood covers her hands, red splatter streaking across her face. Her eyes are wide, unfocused. She takes another unsteady step and starts to fall.
I put my gun away and lunge forward, catching her before she hits the ground. Her body feels small and fragile in my arms, trembling like a wounded animal. The metallic smell of blood fills my nostrils, making my stomach clench.
I glance down the empty hallway, every nerve on high alert for potential threats. But there's nothing—just the elevator humming and Alina's labored breathing.
"Alina?" My voice comes out rough, desperate. I cup her face in my hands, tilting it up to examine her. Blood is everywhere, but I can't tell how much of it is hers. My protective instincts explode into overdrive, demanding I hunt down whoever did this to her. But first, I need to know she's good. "Are you hurt? Are you okay? Where's the blood from? What happened?"
She looks up at me, and it takes a moment for those green eyes to finally focus on mine. She blinks, and tears make clean trails through the blood on her cheeks.
"Marco." Her voice is weak. "I... I killed him. Oh God, I think I killed him."
My blood runs cold. "Who? Who did you kill, sweetheart?"
"Him. He's Russian. He," she takes a moment to take a few breaths, "he shot up my apartment. I hit him with a pan in the kitchen. I hit him so hard, Marco."
Relief floods through me—she's alive. She fought back.
I smile. "Of course you did," I say, stroking her hair. "I've got you," I say, my voice thick with emotion. "I've got you, Firefly. You're safe now."
My relief is short-lived, however, as rage follows almost immediately after. They came for her. In her home. The place where she should have been safe.
The elevator doors start to close, but my body is block them. They bump against me, trying to shut, then retract with a softwhirring sound. It happens again, but I ignore it, holding Alina tighter as she trembles in my arms.
"I have to go check," I say, my voice low despite the rage building inside me. "I need to see if he's still alive."
Alina's bloodstained fingers dig into my arms. "No, Marco, please," she begs. "Let's just go. Please."
My jaw clenches. The thought of walking away when someone hurt her makes my blood boil. I gently wipe away the mixture of tears and blood on her cheeks. "I can't do that, Alina,” I say softly. "No one gets to threaten you. Cause harm to you. Even looking at you wrong deserves my wrath. This ends now."
I gently pull her into the elevator, shrugging off my jacket.
