Chapter 2

Roman

So my hunch was right.

Fuck.

More gunshots began, clearly aimed at our car. One struck the window glass I’d closed seconds ago. Nothing broke but I'd already ducked into the car along with Reggio and  Dominic.

“Move.” I ordered. The engine revved, but a harsh grating sound greeted us.

“Our tires. They've shot them.” Reggio spat, letting out a few curses just as the windshield cracked.

Of fucking course. My jaw clenched.

Who was responsible for this was obvious. I'd already anticipated an attack, but it was coming sooner than expected. 

Marco arranged everything too. They must've been tailing us all the way here using a different route—there were no cars in the vicinity— and planted themselves here. Under the cover of darkness with the streetlights shining on us, we were meat on the chopping block.

There was no other way but out.

This was what I got for sparing a moment to myself.

Sharp pops filled the space as the streetlights in the vicinity popped one by one. Through text, I'd already ordered Alessio and his men in the other car to shoot at the streetlights. It may have been too late in preparation, but it was successful.

They wanted to attack us under shadows. If we were going to fight, we would do so on equal ground. 

I slid the familiar cool metal of my pistol into my grasp, reaching for the other side of the door.

“Out.” I ordered in Italian signalling them to open the door right as I twisted my lock. Crouching down, I shot at the last streetlight, bathing the place in complete darkness.

The gunshots stopped and silence reigned, but it wasn't a victory. Whatever plans they had wouldn't stop at a small setback. The tricks they had up their sleeves, I wasn't keen on seeing them.

Looking behind us I saw the shadows of Alessio and two others, still seemingly unharmed. 

“Scatter.” I ordered. “Hide, do whatever you can to find your way out and back to base.”

“But Boss,” Alessio whispered in protest, "you're the main target. If you're harmed—”

“Theres no time to think.” I cut him off. “We scatter and regroup by morning light. We make contact then. Understood?”

There was no answer. There didn't need to be. 

In quick motions, we moved in different directions through the darkness in the vicinity with me running through the center alley.

 Under the cover of darkness with very few places open, there is no way to track them. 

Gunshots began again, distant and far between.  The diversion worked. Separated they wouldn't pinpoint me. 

But some were close. Too close for comfort.

A sudden flash of blinding hot pain seared my left arm, forcing me to stumble against the wall. I bit down hard enough to taste blood to avoid the guttural groan that threatened to leave me.

I'd been shot. 

Turning back against the haze of pain, my gaze fitted until I spotted the shadow of a man on a rooftop, lit well enough to see him reaching for a communication device.

He was trying to move away, alerted, but the ceiling was too low and in my range.

Aiming my gun with my right hand, I pulled the trigger, ignoring the metallic twinge in my throat as he fell.

Distant footsteps arose. They were closing in. Blood roared in my ears in panic. I couldn't be on the run in this state. I needed somewhere to hide.

A rounded building on the farthest end of the street caught my attention. The door on it was old, easy to lockpick.

If there were any skills I thrived in, it was lockpicking.

Ignoring the pain, I rushed towards it and brought out a fashioned  hairpin I always carried in my pocket, quickly raking through its pins. My fingers stayed steady despite the pain radiating through my arm. Years of experience took over where clear thinking failed.

Just before the footsteps could near, a familiar click rang.

Victory.

Without hesitation, I twisted the handle and banged into the room, shutting the door behind me and ducking behind the counter table. 

I landed harder than I intended. Pain exploded through my shoulders. This time, I couldn't hold back the groan as I pressed my back against the counter and squeezed my eyes shut. Forcing my eyes open through the pain, I looked down to find the reddish hue staining my black shirt from where the tear started, spreading over the rest of my arm.

Blood, and not an insignificant amount, either.

The pain was beginning to settle into something worse now. A hot, vicious throb that seemed to pulse with every beat of my heart.

I was bleeding out. FAST.  The adrenaline was the only thing keeping me going. Once that faded, I was done for.

There was no way to take out the bullet without causing a significant amount of pain or shock. The only other solution was to staunch the blood flow first and deal with the rest later.

I  had to work fast.

My gaze darted towards anything I could use to staunch the wound.

By some twist of luck, dim, warm lighting filled the room. From the outside, it stood out amidst the sea of dark shops. The owner must have forgotten to turn the lights off. Weren't they afraid of theft?

It was without a doubt an oversight on a foolish owner's part, but I wasn't complaining. 

Looking around from my vantage point , I saw nothing of substance. There were shelves, books and what looked to be receipts, but nothing of substance.

Where the hell was I?

Straining my neck to look past the table, I met several rows of books, some chairs and shelves and signs. The building was 

It hit me. Of all the places I could have broken into, I'd chosen a fucking BOOKSHOP.

Fucking fantastic.

I muttered curses under my breath and reached blindly through the closest drawers with my free hand. There had to be SOMETHING useful.

Objects clattered to the floor, not one of them useful. Aside from receipts and a few stationery, scattered across the floor, there was nothing.

The hopelessness that had been hovering at the edge of my mind began creeping closer. A distant gunshot made my gut clench. 

They were still outside. I may have gotten away, but if they got any closer…

I growled, using my free hand to unbutton my shirt frantically and carefully pulling it off me. Stuffing half of the fabric into my mouth as a muffle, I braced myself and jammed the fabric deep into the wound entrance. My eyes shut in agony without stopping the pressure. 

I had to keep moving without leaving a trail. Only then could I escape.

Just a little more…

My jaw hurt from how tightly I clenched it, all while forcing myself to remain alert for any nearby footsteps or gunshots.

In the midst of the painful haze my heart hammered in my ears in deep thumps, rising faster and higher until it stopped suddenly. Almost like footsteps. 

Wait…FOOTSTEPS?

“What the fuck?”

Oh.

My eyes snapped open. Whipping my head to the direction just to meet a pair of dark eyes staring back at me.

Two realizations hit me at that moment. The first being that unlike my initial beliefs  the owner hadn't forgotten to turn on the lights before leaving.

The second was that said owner, presumably the woman in front of me, hadn't left. He was still HERE, looking at me.

Amidst my haze of pain, I could see her features in the dim lights. From her olive skin to her hair trapped in a bun. Her eyes were wide, stunned in place before slowly veering off.

I followed her gaze towards the side where my gun lay, its metal glint incriminating.

Fuck.

I didn't even realise when the fabric used to muffle my groans fell out. Her gaze lifted back to mine in silence but I already knew I was done for. There was no other way to explain a man randomly bleeding out with a gun.

I could only pray to the Madonna to spare me. There was no other way out but through.

With my uninjured hand, I reached for the gun, ready to threaten her silence when the sound of a slamming open forced me to halt. She looked up, completely startled and every muscle in my body locked into place.

It was them.

“Good evening Ma'am.” True to form, the man's voice was completely foreign, a lilt that spoke of a foreign accent along with surprise. “You are…”

“Yes?” 

I blinked at the sound of her voice, dry and deadpan to the point of blatant hostility.

“Welcome to my bookstore. I appreciate the…enthusiasm but it's past closing time. You'll have to come tomorrow for whatever books you need.”

What was she doing?

I held my breath, willing myself to stay silent. 

“That isn't the case.” The man drawled. “Actually, I was going to ask if you've seen someone around here. A strange man in dark clothes, he may have run around these parts or maybe…sneaked inside.”

My jaw clenched. I clutched the gin carefully , the pain hadn't recorded, and black spots swirled in my vision. I was losing ground.

If she said anything and outed me, I'd be done for. 

Forcing back the looming darkness, I gripped my gun, bracing myself when her voice rang.

“No can do. My shop's burglar safe and I've been here this whole time. Nobody's come in, until you, who apparently took it upon yourself to test my door's strength.” She said, making my heart skip. “Now if you'll excuse me, please shut the door on your way out.”

“You wouldn't mind if I checked though? Anything could happen—” 

“I MIND the shit out of whoever's in my store.” Her voice came out more aggressively, startling me. “Who are you anyways? You don't look like a regular here.”

“I was just asking a question—”

“Look,” she sighed exasperatedly. “I'm not in the mood for this. The bookstore’s closed, I'm dead tired and I have no strength or patience to entertain all this. Hold on…ENTERTAIN…”

My brows furrowed until she backed away from my vantage point. Tension filled me before she shook her head. 

“Are you a sex worker?”

What?

“What?” The man outside sounded equally as confused but all that came out of her were a row of expletives.

“Shit. You fucker. I get it now. If you're one of those ‘men of the night’ Aunt Linda recommended I'm even LESS Interested. Fuck, THAT explains your crazy all black getup. Is this another fucked up cop roleplay you guys are trying to do? Because I sure as hell didn't appreciate the first one. Should've bloody noticed from the strange ass, bullshit questions. What's next? Are you going to talk about ‘punishing’ me for withholding a criminal and start stripping like the last guy? You guys don't even have different scripts?  For fucks sake…”

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Disbelief filled me as she continued ranting in indignation, barely letting him get a word in as she spoke about stripping, dignity and…THONGS?

How on earth did she get there?

I heard the distinct sound of someone taking a step backward. I didn't need to see to know that the man was trying to understand what had gone wrong, just as bewildered over how she'd turned the tables on him. 

But all of this centered into one sole fact.

She'd lied. Was STILL lying for my sake.

She could've easily ratted me out with no questions asked. The optics were bad enough  given how I was the intruder, shirtless, bleeding with a gun I'd considered threatening her with. 

But she hadn't.

Why?

The pain felt duller, but so did my senses. I blinked frantically, trying to shake off the feeling, but my body and eyes only grew heavier with each second. Dread trickled down.

I wasn't going to make it.

“Fucking crazy bitch.” I heard a voice—the man— curse at the edge of my whittled vision, followed by the door slamming shut. More footsteps thrummed followed by a light click.

He was gone. I was safe. 

That realization involuntarily depleted my final reserves of my lucid focus. Instantly, the tension I'd been holding onto fell apart and I sank deeper faster.

The darkness was taking over just as something floated across my vision. I blinked to see it clearly and my chest tightened.

A pair of eyes…her face, razor focused on me.

She looked…pretty.

That was the last thing I saw before falling into darkness.