Page 186 of His Pretty Little Duet

Pushing the staff exit open, he guides us forward. I pull the hoodie down my face. We walk across a gravel road, and the small loose stones shuffle below my sandals. My eyes sting thinking about my pretty new sandals.

I dart my gaze quickly up to see we are in the staff carparking lot, keeping my nervous gaze away from my sandals and all they symbolise.

Then I hear the static of male voices and the scuffing of rushed, heavy-footed people.

We start to jog.

I follow Max.

The sound of shoes beating the floor chases after us.

Closing in.

My heart spikes. Panic sets in, and I almost slam into the bonnet of a red car when Max grabs my elbow, steering me in another direction?—

A gunshot blasts my ears, ripping a yelp from me, forcing me to duck and cower low.

Did they just fire at us?

"Fuck," Max bites out, sweeping me in front of him, blocking the direction of the bullets with his form. He stoops with me still in the sheltered cave of his body, hiding us by the side of the car. Another bullet sounds.

They are firing at us!

Gasping as a third round is fired, hitting something metal, the ting of sound like a jet flying past my ear, I try to calm myself down. Think straight. I squat lower, peering around the side of the vehicle's black metallic paint.

Tears consume my eyes when I see Clay rip a weapon from the man firing at us. He's frantic as he slams the handle into the guard's face, barking, "That's my brother!"

Then our eyes lock.

His gloss over.

Mine gape at the vulnerability.

He calls out to me. "Fawn!" His voice reaches right inside me. "Fawn!" He shakes his head meaningfully, and my breath vibrates in my throat when I hear the strain in his timbre. "Come to me, little deer. Walk to me now."

I can't. I sob once but suck it in. My whole body starts to quake violently under the restraint of those angry, wanting tears… I touch the pendant on my chest, pressing my palm to the meaningful gift.

Remember who I am…

Clay’s face twists in anguish, an expression that strips the calm, controlled mask away and reveals utter defencelessness to me. My heart thrashes. I want to go to him, to my everything, want to rush into his arms, the arms that held me while I bled, that rock me while I sleep, that protect, that defend, that love. His arms.

But I don’t.

And it kills me.

I defy him for the first time, splitting straight down the centre, tears filtering out the seams of my existence.

I'll see you soon, Sir.

I'm resilient and brave.

The blood of the Cosa Nostra.

I can do this!

Clay curses, spinning in anger, gripping his neck before turning back to aim the gun at the car, his deadly stare focused on something low, homed-in like a predator to prey.

My wolf.

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