ROB 2

Rob’s POV

I silently cursed under my breath when the doorbell rang.

What the fuck was I doing?

I stormed past Bianca’s friend at the door, not giving a shit about whatever drama I was about to leave behind. She was safe now. My job was done. I had no reason to be here anymore.

I yanked my car door open, ready to drive off and forget this whole night ever happened, but something stopped me. A glint—subtle, barely noticeable, but there. My gut twisted. Sniper scope.

My gaze darted up to the window across the street. There it was again—a slight movement, the unmistakable outline of a rifle. I wasn’t the only one who noticed. The security guard stiffened, eyes wide with realization.

But I didn’t give a damn about him.

I turned on my heel and ran back into the house.

The second I burst through the door, my brain barely registered what I was seeing. Bianca—standing there, tangled up with her friend. Kissing. What the fuck?

It was a split-second thought, one I didn’t have time to analyze because right then, the shot came.

I lunged forward, shoving them both down just as the bullet whizzed past my head, so fucking close I could feel the air shift. My pulse roared in my ears. I hit the ground hard, gun already in hand.

“Stay down,” I ordered, my voice barely above a whisper.

I didn’t check to see if they listened. I was already moving, crawling toward the door, my body instinctively keeping low. Another shot cracked through the night, shattering the glass behind me. I gritted my teeth, my mind racing. I had to get them out. Now.

The security guard barreled back inside, breathless. “They escaped.”

Fuck.

My grip on my gun tightened. This wasn’t random. A drive-by would have been messy, reckless. But this? A sniper? This was personal. Which meant Bianca was the target. Half the goddamn city probably wanted her dead. I just never thought they’d actually go through with it.

I exhaled slowly, my eyes scanning the windows, the angles. They wouldn’t fire blindly. Not now that they’d missed twice. They’d relocate. Which meant we had maybe a minute, two if we were lucky.

I turned back to the living room. Eve—Bianca’s friend—was sobbing, her whole body shaking, pressed against the floor like she was trying to disappear into it. She looked at me, but there was no gratitude, no relief. Nothing.

Fine. Whatever.

She scrambled to her feet and shoved past me, her sobs cutting through the silence. I let her go. She wasn’t my priority.

Bianca was.

She was standing now, her hands balled into fists, her jaw tight, her entire body vibrating with something that wasn’t fear. She wasn’t even looking at me.

“Are you okay?” I asked, my voice flat.

She didn’t answer.

She turned away, running a hand through her hair, her breath shuddering. I could see her processing, shifting, recalculating. Her mind was already working past the fear. It would have been impressive if it didn’t piss me the fuck off.

“I just saved your life.” My voice was sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade. “The least you could do is say thank you.”

She whipped around so fast I barely had time to prepare for the look in her eyes. Pure, unfiltered rage.

“Leave,” she bit out, her voice sharp, shaking. “Now.”

I clenched my jaw. Unbelievable.

“I said—leave!” she shouted, her voice raw, like she had to force the words past something thick in her throat.

I stared at her for half a second, my whole body tight, every muscle coiled, ready to snap.

I fucking hate you, Bianca Marcello.

I thought it. I almost said it.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I turned on my heel and walked out, my hands itching to punch something, break something. The door slammed shut behind me, and I felt it like a fucking gunshot to the chest.

But I didn’t stop. I didn’t turn back.

I got in my car and drove off, the city lights blurring past me. The heat in my veins wouldn’t settle. My pulse wouldn’t slow. Bianca was alive. She was safe.

And I hated every fucking second of it.