Maybe my family survived too. I had to find out.
An acrid smell assaulted my nose, and I scraped my fingers across my face, gathering the goop the man had smeared on me, trying to figure out what it was.
My stomach churned as I heard him moving around the next room, wondering if it was one of Massimo's men or if he'd actually come back for me.
An old-fashioned-looking gas mask had obscured his face, painted with a worn, fiery bird across the forehead. He didn’t look like one of Massimo’s sharply attired henchmen.
Excruciating pain shot through me as I struggled to shift. With a weak groan, I forced myself to sit upright while my muscles trembled with effort. My vision swam, and I blinkedhard to clear it. That was when I saw it—beneath the ripped white dress, there was a red-glazed hole in my chest.
Fuck.
Massimo shot me.
He fucking shot me.
Pain flooded my senses as I pressed my hand to the floor and pushed myself forward an inch. I had to get out.
Tears wet my cheeks with every tiny movement, the searing sensation in my chest winding me.
Unless Massimo had caught a lung.
No, Laura, stop. One thing at a time. Get out.
I hauled myself to my bedroom, thick black smoke creeping in through my doorway.
‘No,’ I whispered, panic rising.
I needed to move faster.
But my body was weak, exhaustion making my limbs uncooperative. I'd lost too much blood. It caked my torso, seeped between my fingers, and pooled around my thighs on the bathroom floor. Still, it leaked from my chest as I dragged myself forward, leaving a trail behind me.
The air in the room grew hot and thick, making my lungs ache with every breath.
The carpet grazed at my knees with each of my shuddering movements.
Bright orange flames hurried around my door frame, eagerly dancing their way into my room.
Smoke stung at my eyes, and I swiftly diverted my slow course towards one of the open windows. Through quivering sobs, I swallowed down a scream as I weakly grabbed the window frame and propelled myself forward, desperate to draw in the cool, fresh air.
Looking down, I realised the only way out was to throw myself onto the tarmac below.
My entire body protested as I pressed the flesh of my palms into the window sill and hoisted myself up onto the edge.
I was ready to jump when I caught a flicker of movement at the edge of my vision. The masked man was swinging a leg over a motorbike and kicking it into gear..
‘Please, help me,’ I called, my voice lost over the roar of the growing fire.
A cry rang out, and Bill raced toward the bike, brandishing a huge set of gardening shears.
No.
Bill, hide.
But it was too late. The masked man swerved, his bike skidding out from beneath him. Bill rushed him, the shears open wide.
Sweat dampened my back from the inferno behind me, as I watched the masked man fight him off.
The crack of Bill’s neck echoed loud enough for me to make it out over the fire, the masked man's hands jutting his neck harshly to the right. His body crumpled to the ground. A gasp tore from me, my bloody hand coming up to my mouth.