Page 61 of Sovereign Oaths

“Where’s our car?” I asked Derek, trying to get my phone out of my small bag.

“Millie? Ama?” Alessio burst through the door with two men at his back. Luckily, they were his own. He saw us and ran over. “Are you okay?”

He was looking me over, but I pointed to his sister. “She was shot.”

His face fell as he took in the wound. “Ama.”

She pulled away as he lifted his hand to touch her. “Don’t. Just get me home.”

“Boss? We’ve got to move,” one of the two shouted from near the club doors.

Finally, his car pulled around the corner, and his driver jumped out to open the back door. He ushered Ama inside before waiting for me and Alessio.

“Take her back, and call the doctor on the way. Have them meet you there,” I told him before turning to Alessio.

The slam of the door was the confirmation I needed that the driver had listened.

I threw my hands up. “What the hell, Alessio?”

“What? Why did you do that?” He stared behind me. “We need to leave too.”

“No, we need to talk!’

Another car drove up the street; the two men ran toward it. “Come on, boss.”

Alessio grabbed my elbow, but I yanked away from him. “Tell your men to leave.”

He stared at me but finally obeyed. “Go.”

“Where are the others?” I asked as they drove off.

He glanced toward the club and shook his head, walking further down the street before turning around the corner. I followed, with Derek only steps behind me. It was probably best we got out of sight if the gang came looking.

Alessio bent over, running his hands through his thick black hair, when I stopped in front of him.

This was the first time things had truly gone to shit without us planning it. Feeling out of control wasn’t normal for me, and I absolutely hated it. We expected conflict tonight, but not this. We got lucky to get out with only a minor injury.

Anger overtook the panic and adrenaline that got me and Ama out of there.

“What the fuck!” I shouted. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Me?” He straightened, with brows knitted together.

“Yes, you started a fucking gunfight over what? A kind gesture?”

“He touched you,” he growled.

“He wished me a happy birthday and then patted my arm as he walked by. It wasn’t anything more than any stranger would do as they moved past someone,” I argued. “Your pride or ego or whatever the hell controls your poor choices just got your sister shot!”

His shoulders dropped.

“And how many of your men and friends? There were what, fifty people there? I saw about a dozen of your men armed. How many others were injured?”

He ran a palm over his face. “I’m not sure.”

“Only two men came out with you. Where are the others?”I demanded.

“Some went out the back, I think.”

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