Chapter 6 - Blood on Emerald Silk
I screamed as a massive arm wrapped around my waist, lifting me completely off the ground and throwing me behind an overturned oak table.
Concrete shattered overhead as high-caliber rounds shredded the wallpaper. Glass rained down like hail. Luca was kneeling over me, shielding my entire body with his broad back, a silenced semi-automatic weapon already smoking in his right hand.
“Stay down!” he barked through the chaos.
“Luca! Your shoulder!” I gasped, my fingers coming away warm and wet against his jacket. Dark crimson was rapidly soaking through his pristine white dress shirt.
“A scratch,” he grunted, firing three rapid shots over the lip of the table. A grunt and the heavy thud of a falling body echoed nearby. “Marco! Suppressive fire on the southern exit! Now!”
The Ferrante security team had already infiltrated the waitstaff. Flashes of muzzle fire illuminated the room in staccato bursts. Men were shouting, furniture splintering, screams echoing off the ornate ceiling.
Luca grabbed my wrist, pulling me to my feet. “We’re moving. Keep your head between my shoulders.”
We sprinted through a service corridor behind the kitchen, the smell of grease and gunpowder searing my lungs. Two Coretti hitmen rounded the corner, their rifles raised, but Luca didn't hesitate. Without breaking stride, he fired twice with terrifying precision. Both men collapsed before their weapons could level.
I had never seen him kill. The brutal, clinical efficiency of it terrified me, but the sheer ferocity with which he kept himself between me and the bullets was something that shattered every defense I had left.
We burst into the underground garage where our armored SUV was waiting, tires screeching across the oil-slicked concrete. Marco kicked open the rear door.
“Get in!” Luca shoved me into the leather interior, diving in right behind me as bullets sparked off the reinforced glass of the rear window.
The SUV peeled out into the rainy Chicago night, smashing through the parking barricade.
I fell across Luca’s chest, frantic, tearing at his ruined shirt to inspect the wound. The bullet had grazed his collarbone, leaving a deep, bloody furrow that poured red down his chest.
“You’re bleeding out!” I sobbed, tears spilling down my cheeks onto his skin. “Why did you do that? You shielded me!”
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Luca grabbed my shaking hands, his bloody fingers tangling into mine with crushing force. Despite the agony on his face, a faint, possessive smile touched his lips.
“I told you, Nora,” he whispered, his breathing ragged against my cheek. “No one touches what is mine. Not even God himself.”
