Page 34 of The Devil's Secret

“Cool. Then I’ll be chopping yours off because if you don’t fucking do what Faro wants, you’ll die for it, my friend.”

“Fuck. Fine. Yeah,” the guy grumbles weakly.

Shit. Shit.

Whatever’s about to happen is going to be bad.

Where the hell are you, Chiara?

My heart pounds so heavily in my rib cage that a thick sense of nausea churns in the pit of my stomach.

Closing my eyes, I pray that they don’t find me. If they do, they’ll kill me. There’s no question.

I’m a witness, and the Bianchis don’t like witnesses. I may make them a lot of money but they’d get rid of me without hesitation if it meant they were protected.

I stay motionless for what feels like an eternity, losing all sense of time. My pulse thrashes endlessly every time I hear the men walking right beside me, every time another happens to march out from the back. I wrap my arms around my trembling knees. My foot rattles, bumping into something with a low thud.

My eyes bulge as I suck and hold my breath, my lungs burning as I do, but that exhale is paralyzed within.

“Did you hear that?” one asks another.

Hairs on my arms prick across my flesh, my heartbeats thundering in my ears.

“I’m gonna go check it out.”

Thump. Thump.

He comes nearer.

An ache builds behind my eyes.

This is it. I’m going to die.

My poor Robby.

I finally release that breath, tears trailing down my cheeks.

I’m so sorry, baby. Please forgive me. For all of it.

My attention lands on the thing I hit with my foot, a black bag with something that looks like the barrel of a gun sticking out under it.

Crunch.

The man, he’s closer now. Too close.

Just as I’m about to reach down and grab the gun, in a last-ditch effort to die with some damn dignity, a loud bang sounds off, and instantly, chaos erupts.

“They’re here!” someone yells.

Pop.

Pop.

Gunshots ring from all directions, a bullet landing into the wall right in front of me, my eyes popping wide.

What the fuck is going on?

Tentatively, I reach down, slowly sliding the gun from under the bag, and grip it in my shuddering hand. I don’t want another murder on my conscience, but I will shoot if I have to. Bullets fire while I cower deeper into my hiding spot, thankful I have some protection.

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