Penny
Luca dashes from the room, not acknowledging my pained admission with more than a narrowed stare.
He’s going to get himself killed.
All of us could die in the melee.
Oh, God, Tobias.
I rush to my feet and scramble to follow him. As I enter the hall, I find Luca crouched before Tobias, a finger to his lips as he instructs Luther’s son to remain quiet.
For a brief moment I’m struck with the kindness in his features. The gentle nurturing that seems one hundred percent pure. Then he looks at me, his gaze hardening as he pushes to his feet.
“Go,” he mouths to Tobias. “Hide.”
The boy rushes toward me and I usher him into the room, mimicking Luca’s warning to keep as quiet as possible with a finger to my mouth.
“What’s going on?” I whisper.
“Dad told me to come get you. You need to go to him.”
I nod. “I will. But first, you have to hide, okay?”
He opens his mouth to protest.
“Not now, Tobias. You need to listen. Hide. Get under the bed. Or in the closet. But don’t come out, you hear me?”
“What’s happening?” His voice breaks with a sob.
“I don’t know. I have to go with Luca to find out.”
“But you were meant to—”
I shake my head at him, cutting off his words. I’m well aware of what I was meant to do. I know I failed. “Did you do it? Did you sedate Cole?” I murmur.
He winces, his tiny shoulders curling in on themselves.
“Don’t worry. You did great.” I smile at him, my heart breaking at the thought of this possibly being our final goodbye.
Luther will kill me for failing.
Me, and the man I endangered.
“Now it’s important you hide.” I shoo him farther into the room and grab the door handle. “Don’t come out until I get you.”
I want to tell him I love him. There’re so many things I need this little boy to know, but I close the barrier between us and force myself to remain strong as I turn to Luca.
He’s in the middle of the hall, creeping toward the entry to the living room, his gun raised. He’s about to start a war. And with Cole drugged, he’ll surely get himself killed.
“Stop,” I whisper. I run for him on the tips of my toes.
He doesn’t listen, stepping into the light from the main room, his shoulders strong, his face stony as he points his barrel at a target I can’t see.
“Luther,” he yells. “Drop it.”
I skitter to a stop beside him as gunfire rings out, the booming sound pummeling toward us.
Pop.
Pop.
I duck, my pathetic attempt to protect myself improved when Luca shoves me back into the sanctuary of the hall.
I stumble against the wall as he rushes into the living room, more pop, pop, pops raining down.
I’m too stunned to scream. I’m completely dazed, and it’s not only because of the battle or the shouting voices. It’s because Luca shoved me.
Protected me.
In the heat of the moment, when he was surrounded by danger, his first instinct was to push me out of harm’s way.
He did as he promised.
He attempted to save me.
I remain immobile as voices brush my ears—the sound of Chris talking from outside, then Luther, and even a slurred response from Cole. Grunts and thumps carry from the main room. There are clear sounds of a struggle and all I can think about is the man who tried to help me. The one who is now eerily silent.
Luther’s laugh is the only noise that penetrates my shock, the conniving tone filling me with dread.
“It’s too late. I got him,” he taunts. “Penny, check to make sure Luca’s dead.”
Oh, God.
I prop myself against the wall and beg my legs to strengthen beneath me. I can’t stop shaking. I can’t even breathe properly as I fumble my way to the hall entry and find Luther on the floor, leaning on his elbows, his face awash with smug satisfaction as his son sways on his feet, barely remaining upright.
Their expressions paint a horrid picture—Luther’s victorious and egotistical, Cole’s devastated and confused.
Guilt has me searching for the man who offered kindness. The one I find shielded behind the back of a sofa, his body lifeless, one cheek covered in blood.
A cry builds in my throat, demanding to be heard. I let the pressure assault me. Punish.
He was my only chance at freedom and I let him slip through my fingers. He was my savior and I treated him like a predator.
“Don’t go near him.” Cole fumbles over his words. “Get the fuck away.”
I ignore him in my need to confirm Luca’s death, not only to appease my tormentor, but for my own insight. I have to feel the void where there should be a heartbeat, to let the lack of life slice another scar into my tormented soul.
“Luther, I’m sorry.” I inch into the room. “I’m so sorry. I tried to stab him with the sedative but he stopped me. He was too quick.” The explanation fumbles from my lips. “I didn’t know what to do. I thought maybe I could—”
“Just check him.” Luther crawls to his feet.
I do as I’m told, starting toward Luca’s prone body, following the crimson trail staining the ivory tiles. I scour every inch of him hoping for movement, my gaze trekking from the heavy boots, along his thighs, across his stomach, to his neck, chin, and mouth. My gaze finally comes to rest on the hazel eyes slowly blinking back at me.
He raises a shaky hand to his lips, requesting my silence.
I should tell Luther. I need to inform my owner of the threat, yet the words don’t form. I’m incapable of announcing this man’s vulnerability. Not after he tried to save me. Yet I have to say something.
“There’s blood.” My voice trembles. “It’s coming from his head.”
Luca crooks a finger, beckoning me forward.
My heart drops.
I don’t want to go to him, yet I’m drawn. Pulled. My feet creep closer of their own accord, then I’m crouching, succumbing to his silent command.
“Penny,” Luther growls. “What are you doing?”
“His pulse… I-I’m checking his pulse.”
What I’m really doing is staring into the eyes of the man who has fractured me. The one who fills me with relief because he’s still alive. But there’s no justification for my celebration, not when I’m responsible for his injuries, and his upcoming death.
“I’m sorry.” I break our visual connection in an attempt to sever my guilt and focus on the lengthy gash along the side of his head, the oozing blood matting his hair. I’m about to reach out, to sweep the strands away to inspect his wound when Cole curses, the violent outburst from the other side of my hiding place enough to make me retreat.
“Get his weapon,” Luther demands of me. “Then unlock the door and hand it to Chris.”
“Don’t do it,” Cole snarls. “Don’t fucking do it, Penny.”
My heart sinks as I glance to my left and find Luca’s gun on the tile a few feet away.
There’s no choice. With Luther armed and Chris waiting outside, evil has already prevailed.
Gentle fingers brush my wrist, stealing my attention. My focus. I meet Luca’s gaze. I see the struggle to fight etched in his features—the tight lips, the drawn brows.