Page 82 of Mercy in Betrayal

I crane my neck, trying to see behind me. “What about everyone else? They—”

“—fuck everyone else. RUN!”

I’m sprinting, running harder and faster than I ever have in my life.

More screams. More shots.

Impossible to reset.

Chapter 29

Enzo

Trees whip at my face, and I keep one hand raised, pushing them aside until Rowan has gone by. My hands take a beating, but adrenaline keeps me pushing forward. More gunshots ring out, and I know someone else is dying. How many will fall tonight? If what Rowan said was true, Angel Valachi stands to emerge from this conflict nearly the lone ruler of the Five. I can’t believe none of us saw it.

I tighten my hold on Rowan’s hand; I can’t lose her. The thought almost makes me trip over a fallen branch.

“Watch your footing,” I whisper over my shoulder, and she glides over the fallen tree. The moon is our only source of light, but I’m hyper aware of the noise we’re making, of who could be hiding in the trees. We continue running, the drag on my arm telling me Rowan is getting tired, but we can’t stop.

We are running from Death itself. That is, after all, what Azrael was named after—the Angel of Death.

I keep glancing back at Rowan. I want to stop and hide her or shield her with my body, but the snipers are most likely using rifles, and the power behind the bullets could easily rip through both of our bodies at once. That’s the only reason I’m keeping her at arm’s length and not carrying her.

“Enzo.” Her one word is breathless, but we can’t stop. I can’t let her get hurt. That’s the beat of my heart. It’s not my own survival that spurs me on, but the thought of my wife’s that pushes me on and ignites more anger inside me. When this is over, I will take Angel down, and Azrael, too. A Don shouldn’t have to run in fear.

I see a break in the tree line ahead. “We are nearly there,” I encourage an exhausted Rowan. I’m practically dragging her at this stage. A small arch in a copse of trees offers some shelter, and I stop, pushing Rowan down so she can be somewhat shielded and catch her breath.

Her eyes are wild with fear, and she can’t even talk as she drags in lungfuls of air, the sounds noisy against the quiet night. I notice she is still wearing the clothes she wore today to school. She never changed; it’s clear she never had the opportunity to do so. She had been at the Valachi residence, she said. A guest or a hostage? I’m still holding her hand, and I bring it to my lips, pressing a kiss to the palm while sending up a silent promise. If we get out of here alive, I’ll never let anything happen to her.

She’s mine.

I glance back through the tree line. We need to keep moving. Her breathing is more under control but her wild eyes keep jumping around the area.

I reach out and take her chin in my hand, making her look at me. “You’re safe, little bird. I won’t let anything or anyone harm you.” More words linger on my lips, but now is not the time.

“Why have we stopped?” She doesn’t seem to comprehend my words as she turns her head, pulling her face out of my hand. She rises, and I rise with her. “The parking lot is right there.” She’s ready to move, her fear clouding her judgment.

“They had gunmen surrounding us. You think they forgot about our cars? That’s where everyone’s going to run to.”

A red light dances across a leaf, then glides closer to us. I grab Rowan around the waist and push her to the ground, crushing her beneath my body as wood splinters above our heads. Fucking snipers. I raise my head, Rowan’s hoarse screams breaking through my fear. I move off her slightly and run a hand along her body. I got her out of the way; she can’t be hurt. Still, my hands frantically search for blood.

“You’re not hurt.” I say, more for me than her. “Rowan, are you hurt?” My anger breaks through her hysteria.

She shakes her head, red curls sticking to her sweaty and tear-soaked cheeks. “No. No.” She swallows a sob.

“Don’t move.” I push her back, making sure she’s pinned to the ground. Extracting my gun, I zigzag toward where the shot came from, firing my own gun in quick succession as I run in the general direction of where I think the sniper is. The beast in me has no fear and wants blood.

After firing off several rounds, I hear a groan and know I’ve hit my mark. I break through the trees to find the coward lying on his back. He rolls as I fire another bullet. It tears up the ground. He spins and withdraws a knife. I fire a shot into his hand, the knife sails away from him, and he doesn’t scream in pain. These men are trained for pain. But so was I.

“How many of you are here?!” I roar.

The man’s gaze flickers to movement behind me at the same time that he bites down on something in his mouth, a wry twist on his lips. “We are Azrael,” he whispers. “We are legion.” A second later, a trail of white foam pours between his lips, his head lolls to the side, and he stops breathing.

His death is quick, and I turn to Rowan behind me, staring down at the man. “What was that?” Pale, she sways slightly.

“Cyanide capsule. It’s a quick death.”

And every one of them will fall.

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