Page 22 of Depths of Hunger

Mia struggles to open the car door, her movements frantic. She’s been hit. Rage flares through my veins. Someone hurt her. They hurt what’s mine. I lose sight of her as she stumbles onto the sidewalk. Moments later, I hear her call out, her voice tinged with desperation. “Paulie!” Paulie must be hurt badly—his breathing is ragged, labored.

“Angelo!” Mia yells. “Angelo?”

Angelo drags himself around the car, his leg twisted unnaturally. He’s been shot, too, but he’s conscious, at least. His heart beats steadily, though his face is pale with pain. “Call One-One-Two!” Mia demands, her voice trembling. Angelo dials with shaking hands and tells the operator our location.

“Paulie, stay with me,” Mia pleads. Her hands are stained with blood, and tears stream down her face as she tries to help. She’s alone, terrified, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. Sirens wail in the distance and soon, flashing lights fill the street with harsh, cold light. An officer approaches Mia. “What happened?”

“Someone killed my husband,” she chokes out, her voice breaking. She’s crying, and the anguish in her voice cuts through me like a blade. I can’t move but I make a silent vow to make whoever did this suffer a thousand times over.

I suck in a painful breath,my chest burning. The morgue drawer is freezing, the chill seeping into my bones. Three bullets are out, but two are still lodged deep inside me, pulsing with every heartbeat. I can’t fully heal while they’re in there. I try to remain still, not wanting the attendant to hear me and open the drawer.Surprise.The thought brings a wry smile to my face.

Luca, Nico, I need help. Silence. For fuck’s sake. If my brothers are shutting me out because they’re off getting laid, I’ll kill them myself.Luca, Nico!I project my thoughts louder.

Where the fuck have you been?Nico’s voice snaps through my mind.

Someone shot me. I need you here. Now. The bullets are still inside, and they hurt like hell.

Nico’s response is clipped.We know. It’s been hours. We’ve been tryingto reach you. Luca’s with Father in Venezia. The news is out. They’ve declared you dead. Where the hell have you been?

In the morgue. I grit my teeth.I’m weak, not dead. Not yet.

Wait. You’re still shot? Why haven’t the bullets come out?Nico’s voice is tense, edged with worry.

Five shots. Two in the heart, three in my chest. I’ve ejected some, but two are stuck. My body isn’t healing like it should.

We’re coming, brother.Nico goes quiet, and I feel the presence of my father joining the connection.Lorenzo. He uses my full name.

I’m weak.The admission costs me. I hate being weak, especially in front of him.There’s something wrong, Father. There’s so much pain. This isn’t normal.

We need to get those bullets out.My father’s voice is stern, controlled. I can sense his worry.I’m sending Esme. Stay put until she arrives.

Stay put? I’m in a fucking morgue drawer. Where the hell am I going to go?

Fine. But after that, I’m going home.

We’ll see what she says first. My father’s pragmatism grates on me.

Luca’s voice cuts in.Did you see who shot you?

No. It was raining and I didn’t get a good look. I was…distracted. Stupid of me.I wasn’t about to admit that someone got the jump on me because I was finger fucking my human wife.It could be any number of people either in the human world or the magickal one.

The list of people who want me dead is long and goes back centuries. I’m not surprised someone tried to kill me. It’s happened a few times before but why, at this moment, did someone want me dead? Whoever it was is in for a hell of a surprise. I have no plans to stay dead. I will claim my place at the head of the family and then track down the asshole who is behind the attack.

The pain is intense, and the close confines of this morgue drawer is making it hard to breathe. Claustrophobia has always been an issue for me.

A thought hits me. Mia? Could my wife have been collateral damage to protect her identity? I restrained myself from killing her the other night, barely. Could I have been this wrong about Mia? No. Ican’t see my wife getting someone to do a drive-by. Not her style. Not at all. If she stabbed me or tried to smother me,thatI could see. She is passionate and her temper can flare, which is sexy as fuck. I love the volatile streak that she tries to keep hidden.

A drive-by is too cold, too calculated for her. It would involve her handing off control to someone else and that she just wouldn’t do. I think back to the moments after I was shot. Mia was honestly upset when she thought I was dead. Maybe it’s wishful thinking but I just can’t picture Mia behind this attempt on my life.

I breathe through a wave of pain. My mind drifts back to the wine cellar. I haven’t lost control like that in years, centuries, maybe ever. My hunger for Mia was so intense I forgot she was a virgin. The smell of her blood damn near robbed me of restraint. I’m going to have to be careful around her from now on. Could there be something wrong with me? Almost losing control and now not healing, am I sick?

There was a commotion in the room. The door by my head opens and my drawer is being pulled out. Someone is standing next to my drawer. I close my eyes and slow my breathing and heart rate. Someone pulls the sheet off my head.

“See? Dead. I told you,” a man’s voice says.

“Yes, I see. Do you mind if I have a few minutes with him?” It’s Esme. She arrived quickly. “I just want to say goodbye before the family gets here. You know what I mean.”

There are rustling sounds and then the crunch of money being balled up. Esme must be paying the guy.

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