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“Motherfucker,” I mutter under my breath.
“What did you say?” Manuel growls behind me.
The air around me suddenly turns cold, and my blood pumps faster in my veins as I let out a feral growl. “I said, get ready to die, motherfucker.” Without warning, I drop into a defensive crouch and whip to the side just as a bullet pierces the air with an explosive roar. The deadly projectile finds its mark directly in the center of Manuel’s forehead, blasting a hole in his skull. His body drops heavily to the ground, blood oozing out of the wound. It’s a perfect kill shot.
“Now, you’re just showing off,” I mutter as I look up at the building where our sniper is positioned.
A second bullet comes zapping through the air, instantly killing the second guy, and as he drops to the ground, his gun lands right in front of my feet, so I grab it and start running toward Mira.
Nunzio whips around, momentarily distracted. I seize the opportunity and lunge, slamming my shoulder into his midsection. We crash to the pavement in a tangle of limbs. I grapple for the gun, fingers clawing desperately until I wrench it from his grasp, slamming his hand into the asphalt with such force, trying to get him to let go.
His fingers snap open, the weapon falls out of his hand, landing a few feet away, and I slam my elbow straight into his ugly motherfucking face.
I’m clambering to my feet when a large frame steps in beside me, Maximo towering over Nunzio. “Today you die, motherfucker.”
“Maximo, no!” Mira launches forward, putting herself between us and Nunzio like she’s protecting him.
“Mira, what are you doing?” Maximo narrows his eyes at her.
“You’re not going to kill him.”
He stares at her in disbelief, and I know this man’s mind is about to break with confusion. “This fucker needs to die, Mirabella. Why are you protecting him?”
“I told you that his life is mine to take,” she says sternly. “Not yours or anyone else’s. Mine.”
Nunzio scurries up to his feet, readying to run in the other direction, but I can’t aim with Mira blocking my view.
I swipe around and yell into the night, “Davian! Shoot him!”
“No!” Mira gasps, darting to the side, trying to get into the sniper’s line of sight.
“Mira!” A scream tears from my soul, and I don’t know how the fuck it’s possible, but I swear I can hear that one bullet explodes from the sniper’s chamber, and the world freezes around me. Dread slams into me, a sheet of ice cutting my bones, and I’m paralyzed, terror coating my skin like a thousand nails. Fear twists and turns within me as I desperately try to make sense of what is happening. And all I can think about is how this bullet is going to my wife’s chest and will break through and sink deep into her beating heart. It’s a split second, but I’ve already seen my life without her flash before my eyes—the agony, the despair, the emptiness. At that moment, my mind’s made up. I will end my life. I will end my life here and now rather than take a single breath without her.
Her honey-blonde hair. Cherry-red lips. Her laughter. God, no. Don’t let me lose her.
The single gunshot pierces the air like a jagged blade, slicing through every other sound and leaving nothing but an eerie silence. Then I hear it, a shrill scream of agony that is muffled by my raging thoughts, and in a surreal moment, Nunzio crumples to the ground with a guttural gasp.
The world around us speeds up to a frantic pace, and I lunge toward Mira with a wild urgency, grasping her around the waist and yanking her body close. I’m clutching her so damn tight, weaving my fingers through her hair so desperately that they tangle in the strands. “Jesus, Mira,” I murmur, pressing her hard against my chest.
Her body shakes with sobs, and I breathe out heavily, closing my eyes, thanking God that my worst nightmare didn’t just come true.
“You’re okay,” I murmur, pressing my lips hard on the top of her head, breathing in deep so I can smell her familiar scent to make sure this is real, that I’m not dreaming. “You’re okay? You’re not hurt?”
She shakes her head and tries to lean back, but I only pull her back harder, refusing to let her go.
“I’m okay,” she whispers through the tears. “You? Are you hurt?”
“No. I’m fine, Hummingbird. We’re both fine.”
“Thank God.”
I lean back, sliding my hands to her cheeks as I study her face, ensuring there’s not a goddamn scratch on her. “I need to get you home.”
“What about Nunzio?”
“Mira,” I try to protest because I already know what she’s going to say.
“You promised, Nicoli. You gave me your word.”
