Page 106 of The Masked King

I try to sit up, but pain shoots up my arm and down my spine, and hot tears sting my eyes. “I’m okay.” My voice croaks, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt so feeble or so broken.

I hear his footsteps before I’m able to twist my neck and watch him taking the slimy steps two at a time. Then, he’s yanking the boxes off me, lifting the noose over my head, and folding me into his arms, and I’ve never felt so safe or so scared in my life because where the Enzo I knew was always warm, this Enzo feels like ice.

“It’s over, Demi,” he murmurs, squashing me against his chest, and rocking back and forth like a parent cradling a crying baby. “You’re safe.”

“What about—” My voice finally gives up.

“He’s dead. He can’t hurt you anymore. He can’t hurt anyone.”

I suck in a deep breath, trying to fill my lungs for the first time since I woke up a captive in Malevsky’s charge, as a bullet ricochets off the metal shelving unit right next to us.

We both startle visibly, the sound sending shivers through me as Enzo shields me with his body. I catch a glimpse of the Russian’s head and shoulders at the top of the staircase, peering at us through the hatch, his lips slack and bloody, both hands gripping a gun that’s aimed directly at us.

I flinch and bury my head against Enzo’s chest as he slides a weapon from his pocket with a hand that trembles and fires it towards the hatch. Two gunshots go off, but I only feel the backfire of one bullet from the gun Enzo is holding.

The heavy whump of Malevsky’s body tumbling down the stone stairs plays out inside my head as I wait for it to stop, for more gunshots, for Enzo to collapse on top of me and the Russian to drag me out from underneath him.

But Enzo is holding onto me again, and I’m not sure which one of us is supporting who. Then Gio is there, carrying me across the basement to the door on the other side. The dark cocoon of an underground tunnel swallows us whole— me, Gio, and Enzo— and we emerge into a night where the air is sweet enough to eradicate the gasoline clinging to my sneakers and running tights, and the only sound is the wind rustling the leaves on the trees.

My eyes feel heavy when I try to open them.

Did he drug me again? I don’t remember eating whatever food was left on the nightstand, but when I crack my eyelids, the room is a blur. At least the lights aren’t glaring at me, which means he isn’t watching me sleep.

“Hey, baby.” The voice is barely louder than a whisper, but it makes my pulse race, nonetheless. “How are you feeling?”

I roll my head across the pillow towards the sound and force my trembling lids to stay open long enough for me to focus. Enzo’s beautiful face is on the pillow beside me, his smile exactly how I remember it, the gleam in his eyes all for me.

“Enzo?” I sound as if I have laryngitis and have run out of throat lozenges.

“I’m right here, baby.”

I stare at him, willing the tiredness still crashing through me in waves to fuck off and give me this moment. That’s all I’m asking for: the chance to tell him how I feel and put things right. “How did you…?” It’s all a bit vague, but my brain is replaying a ghost of gunfire in my head like it was the last thing I heard before I lost consciousness.

“You’re in the hospital.” He smiles to soften the delivery. “Well, technically, we both are, but I refused to let you out of my sight, and I think my brother might’ve bribed them with a small donation to leave us alone for a while.”

My eyes travel down from his beautiful face to the sling around his neck, and the dressing peeking out from the neckline of his sweater.

That’s when the image of his ruined shoulder comes flooding back, followed by the nauseating smell of gasoline that makes my breath hitch.

The house.

Malevsky. The lighter. The trapdoor and the noose around my neck.

Bianca!

“Hey, it’s okay, sweetheart.” Enzo smooths my hair away from my face and kisses my forehead, bringing tears to my eyes. “You’re safe now. I won’t let anything happen to you ever again, I promise.”

I feel drained, and it isn’t only down to whatever drugs they’ve administered in the hospital. I haven’t truly relaxed since I left my heart behind a year ago and walked away from Enzo, but I haven’t drawn a full breath since working undercover in the nightclub that brought him back to me either. Now, everything hurts. My chest, my lungs, my head, and there’s a dull throb in my arm that’s keeping time with my erratic pulse.

I try to move my arm, and pain flares inside my skull.

“The bullet tore through muscle,” Enzo says, his voice low and calm. “You broke your elbow too when you fell down the stairs into the basement. You won’t be playing tennis for a while.”

I smile, although I can’t be sure if my mouth cooperates. “I never enjoyed playing tennis.” I’m hoarse, but I know he can hear me when his face lights up with an even wider smile.

“Only because you’re a sore loser.”

“You wish…” My eyelids droop, and I jolt back to the present before I succumb to drug-induced oblivion again. There’s still so much to say, so much I need to ask him. “I’ll have whatever they’re giving you to keep you awake.”