Page 96 of Ivory Crown

Betrayal seared through my confusion, sparking a rage that was all too familiar. Luca was family, closer than most blood kin. The idea of him standing there, gun pointed at me, should have been inconceivable.

"Luca," I softened my voice, attempting to connect with whatever part of him remained the man I had grown up with. "You don't have to do this."

I steeled myself for what was coming next but it didn't diminish the shockwave that coursed through me when the gunshot reverberated off the buildings around us. Nor did it dull the surprise that pierced my chest—almost as sharp as the bullet itself. I loved Luca—it was a simple yet brutal fact—and as the bullet burrowed into my side, that affection morphed into the most excruciating sensation I had ever experienced.

The force of the shot rocked me back a step, and I clutched my side as if by sheer will I could stem the tide of blood now seeping through my fingers. There was something deeply perverse about the red blooms spreading across the fabric of my suit—a cruel graffiti marring the meticulous image I had always strived maintained, an image that still felt like a costume.

I dared a glance at Jade, her expression one of horror and disbelief as she took in the scene before her. Her eyes—those windows to her brilliant yet sheltered soul—were wide with shock, her mouth slightly agape as if words had abandoned her in this moment of sheer terror.

"Jade," I managed to say, though my voice was barely above a whisper, strained by the effort to remain conscious. "Get back."

Her gaze locked onto mine, a silent plea for explanation, for reassurance—something I couldn't give her, not when my own world was careening off its axis. I saw the conflict there, the impulse to rush forward, to play the savior, but she hesitated, torn between instinct and intellect.

"Stay away," I urged again, more forcefully this time, even as I felt the edges of my vision begin to blur, the sounds of the city fading into a distant hum. I needed her safe, untouched by the darkness that had infiltrated my life, even if it meant pushing her away when every fiber of my being screamed to pull her close.

I was a Moretti; I had always known that love was a luxury I couldn't afford. But staring into Jade's eyes, the truth of that cost had never cut deeper. As the adrenaline surged, keeping the encroaching blackness at bay, I knew I had to fight, not just for survival, but for a chance to right the wrongs that had led us here—to this moment where love and loyalty lay bleeding on the pavement.

I clung to the sound of Jade's voice, an anchor in the chaotic swirl that my senses had become. She was upset, her words coming out in sharp, disjointed bursts, the way they did when she was trying to solve a problem under pressure. But her distress was a distant thunder, overshadowed by the numbness spreading through me.

"Jade," I managed to choke out, but it was like speaking through water. Every instinct told me to protect her, to shield her and our unborn child from the inevitable fallout of my life's choices. Yet, as I teetered on the brink, there was nothing I could do but wish for more time, for a chance to escape this life and give them the peace they deserved.

My muscles gave out, my body no longer mine to command, and my knees buckled, sending me crashing to the cold, unforgiving ground. The impact barely registered; my mind was consumed with images of Jade, with the hope that somehow, she'd keep our baby safe from this world.

"Help him, please!" Her voice cut through the fog, laced with a raw panic that tugged at the remains of my consciousness. "Ellie, Rodriguez, do something!"

But then the darkness claimed me entirely, and I fell into oblivion, the echo of Jade's desperate plea for Ellie and Rodriguez to come to my aid haunting me into the silence.

Chapter Fifty-Four: Jade

The vice-like grip of fear constricted my chest, each pulse of my heart echoing like a drum in the chaos that erupted around me. Dante had fallen, his body meeting the ground with a terrible finality, the elegant lines of his suit marred by a spreading crimson stain.

My chest tightened, each heartbeat echoing like a drumbeat amidst the chaos that erupted around me. Dante had fallen, his body hitting the ground with a terrible sense of finality, the sleek lines of his suit marred by the spreading stain of red. "Luca!" he gasped out, and that single name was a dagger flung into the thick air. But Luca, the man who I was pretty sure had stopped me from escaping the penthouse, had vanished, simply a wisp of smoke lost in the pandemonium.

I pushed aside my terror, my mind shifting gears — those endless drills at BioHQ suddenly seemed far from pointless. My eyes scanned through the crowd frantically, desperate for some sort of lifeline. And there they were: Rodriguez, his face an unyielding mask amidst the screams, and Ellie, her shock etched plainly across her face.

"Ellie! Rodriguez!" I shouted over the turmoil, my voice surprisingly steady despite the tremors coursing through me internally. As they turned to me their expressions hardened with resolve. At least that was what I hoped.

We needed to act quickly; there was no room for hesitation — not if we wanted Dante to survive.

"Help me with Dante," I implored them, my voice cutting through the chaos. Rodriguez nodded, the deep lines on his face solidifying with resolve as if he had been molded for this moment. He guided us to his patrol car, an unassuming sentinel parked subtly along the curb.

Together, Ellie and I hoisted Dante's limp body, his blood staining our hands—a stark reminder of the severity of the situation. His previously commanding presence was alarmingly fragile in our arms; each drop of blood that leaked through my fingers felt like an indictment, a silent plea for action.

I felt so sick. The smell of blood was making me so nauseous.

His weight on my shoulders was making me so scared.

"Careful," Ellie murmured, her typically jovial demeanor replaced by stern determination. Her curls bobbed as she moved deliberately, each step calculated, her mind undoubtedly ticking off every detail with her signature precision.

Rodriguez assisted us in maneuvering Dante into the backseat where he lay still—a mere shadow of the man who once dominated any room with his sheer presence. A sharp pang twisted in my gut—fear, anger, helplessness—it was all there, but I pushed it down. This wasn't the time to crumble. Dante needed me strong.

Ellie sat in the passenger seat while I sat next to Dante, his legs on mine.

The moment Dante was secured, Rodriguez didn't hesitate. He took control of the wheel as though it were second nature; his movements smooth despite the palpable tension radiating from him. The engine roared to life at his command and we sped towards the nearest clinic—the sirens carving a path through the city's arteries.

I glanced at Dante; his face pallid under intermittent shadows that danced across his features—an eerie dance with his life teetering on edge. I reached out and found his hand; it was cold—much colder than it should have been—and I clung to it desperately trying to will some of my warmth—my life—into him.

"Hang on, Dante," I murmured more to myself than him.

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