Page 93 of His Passerotta

“Fuck you,” I growl, but there’s little heat to it.

The reality of the situation is that Maksim has been shot, and while he’s no longer bleeding, he’s in desperate need of a doctor. He can’t stay down here for days. He won’t last that long.

And Corey… If Bleached-hair doesn’t stop the bleeding, he only has an hour, maybe less.

So as it turns out, we want the same things. We both need to get the fuck out of here.

Which, I guess, makes us allies.

Who would’ve thought?

“I have to get him out.” I touch my pocket, feeling my keys protruding. “My car is here, I just have to figure out a way to get my brother out of the house.”

Maksim’s lips tilt up into a smile. “And I suppose you want my help?” Now, he sounds amused.

“If you want to live, you need mine.”

His smile falls, and he lets out a long, slow sigh. “Fine. Find something to cut me free.”

“Promise that you’ll help my brother.”

He rolls his head my way, his lips set in a thin line.

“Promise me,” I say, shifting my legs. Already, I’m mentally casing the place for something sharp, but I need Maksim to say it.

There’s an incredibly low percentage chance that he isn’t going to knock me over the head and take my car keys, but he’s my best shot. I can’t do this on my own. I need him to at least lie to me.

“I promise,” he says, looking me in the eye. “You save my life, I save yours.”

“And my brother’s.”

He nods. “And your brother’s.”

I stare at him for several seconds, trying to read whether or not he’s telling the truth. He looks honest, but he’s a criminal. Criminals know how to lie. Worse than that, he’s more or less my enemy, depending on the day.

But like I said before, I don’t have a choice. I need him. He needs me.

We’ll just have to trust each other.

Finally, I drag my eyes off him to scan the room. There’s a lot of bullshit, but the thing that catches my attention is the tiny window high up above Maksim’s head.

It’s too small for either of us to fit through, but a broken piece of glass could cut the rope around his wrists and ankles. The metal music upstairs is probably too loud for anyone to notice the sound of glass shattering… I hope.

I search out something blunt and land on a random metal pipe leaned against a shelf. I go to Maksim and lift the pipe above my head.

“Close your eyes,” I order.

“You gonna end my misery, sweetheart?”

I roll my eyes, then close them as I bring the pipe back and throw it as hard as I can toward the window, shattering the glass and showering us with the pieces.

Maksim has a piece before I even blink. He looked weak when I came down here, but now there’s life in his movements. He’s ready to fight.

And so am I.

24

ANTHONY

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