Page 65 of Venomous Throne

A monstrous screech violated the peace—a swarm of tires squealing against asphalt, a banshee wail announcing impending doom as a vehicle met the corner at breakneck speed. The sound was jarring, tearing through the fabric of our fragile existence.

Franky’s powerful arm encircled me like an iron band, our bodies propelled downward in a rush of necessity and fear.

Time fractured into erratic fragments. The staccato roar of gunfire sliced through the quiet street. Bullets zipped overhead in vengeful pops, each one a whisper of death too close for comfort. The black sedan zoomed by, an agent of violence, wheels spewing malice in its wake. Its engine snarled in defiance of our safety as it tore away, leaving behind nothing but the acrid scent of burnt rubber and spent gunpowder.

The concrete felt brutally real beneath me. The pockmarks and stray pebbles pressed into my skin. My heart thumpedhard against my sternum’s constraint, its fierce rhythm mingling anxiety with adrenaline in a chaotic beat.

Breathing was a secondary concern as Franky’s formidable bulk shielded me from potential harm, his body anchoring mine against the sidewalk’s unyielding surface.

“Stay down,” he growled, his cigarette crushed somewhere beneath us.

I counted to ten before we slowly rose, my eyes scanning the street for any sign of the shooters’ return. The neighborhood had gone eerily quiet—no curious neighbors peeking through curtains, no dogs barking. Everyone knew better than to get involved in our business.

“You hit?” Franky asked, his hands patting down my arms and shoulders with surprising gentleness.

“No.” I brushed debris from my wrinkled suit jacket, my fingers trembling slightly. “You?”

He shook his head, already reaching for his phone. “I’m calling the boys. I knew Rocco wouldn’t take this lying down. We need to retaliate!”

Air refused to fill my lungs. My heart shook, fright froze my limbs.

“Don’t,” I croaked, barely able to express the syllables.

Franky gave me a hard look.

Don’t let him see you’re scared.

With an iron willpower, I forced air into my lungs.

“Don’t attack. It’s what he expects,” I gasped.

“Donna Isabella, this kind of thing—”

“I know the protocol,” I snapped. Anger bloomed in my chest, and I latched onto it like a lifeline. “I won’t play into his hand. We’ll hit him where it hurts and then we’ll take a pound of flesh.”

Or more.

Chapter 26 – Jaxon

As I stood across the street, a shadowy sentinel watching over the vibrant pixie, my phone rang.

“What?” I snapped.

“Well, hello to you, too,” my partner grumped.

“Chase, spit it out.” I didn’t have time for games.

Isabella left the safety of her armored SUV. Unaccompanied, she walked to the jewelry store, head held high.

I frowned.

The recon I did not ten minutes ago told me that a Chicago power player was shopping inside with his wife and their dog. Other than the store owner, they were alone. I didn’t like to think that Isabella was walking, unescorted, into the lair of the rival mafia kingpin.

“Maxim Sidorov left the Caribbean.”

“I know that,” I snapped.

Chase sighed. “I’ll try to find him again, but—”