FIFTY-SEVEN.

ALESSANDRO, AKA DON VALENTINO.

I sit paralysed as I watch Scarlett raise the gun to her chest, pointing the gun at my Ivy.

The blood drains from my face, my eyes dart back and forth between the two women and for once in my life, I am at a loss for what to do.

I cast my gaze back to Ivy, she looks hell-bent on letting Scarlett instil the ferocious sensation of fear in her.

She takes a calculated step forward with her gaze heavily trained on the gun, and she raises her hands in mid-air.

“I just want to answer the phone.” She says loud and clear in an even tone.

Good Farfalla, don’t show her an ounce of your fear.

“If I don't, they have threatened to start shooting and activate the bombs they have scattered through the hospital.” Ivy continues to speak as she holds her head up high and takes another step.

“Hurt her, and I will make it rain with your blood,” I mutter under my breath to Scarlett, feeling the muscles on the side of my neck throbbing.

I need to distract Scarlett. I need t