Page 86 of Heartless Vows

I shrug out of my coat and drape it over her shoulders. She threads her arms into the sleeves and overlaps the front. She’s so tiny the fabric covers her from collarbone to mid thigh.

I guide her away from her uncle as he coughs and gurgles his way back into consciousness.

Fiero steps into the doorway, but before I can pass Aurora over to him, the telltale click of a hammer cocking sounds behind me.

I push Aurora forward, blocking her with my bulk, and hiss when fire streaks into my side. Fiero and I pull her down to the ground and cover her with our bodies as bullets pepper the wall. My consigliere passes me his favorite hand piece before pulling a second pistol from his belt.

With a nod toward Aurora, I tell him to get her the fuck out of danger. He lifts his chin in acceptance and grabs her arm.

The emptied gun clatters to the floor.

I surge upward and stalk around the bed. Otello lifts a loaded pistol from my discard pile and pulls the trigger a millisecond before my bullet pierces his brain. White-hot agony slices through my hip, but I continue forward and send bullet after bullet into his head and chest until his disfigured body lies in a pool of dark red crimson.

I kick his foot. He doesn’t move. Blood oozes from his wounds. I tuck Fiero’s pistol into my waistband and turn toward the door. My heart freezes in my chest.

Aurora’s arm slips from Fiero’s grip as they both fall to the ground. She lands on her knees and looks down at herself. When she opens my coat for a better look, red pours down her side.

Fiero’s curses stream in the background as I lunge across the room and grab Aurora. I push my coat and her unlatched bra out of the way and inspect her wound.

“The bullet bounced off your ribs; it didn’t puncture your lungs. You’re okay,mia topolina.”

“Damn straight it ain’t in her ribs. The fucking thing is in my back,” Fiero hisses.

I yell down the hall for my men and realize Tristan’s voice has echoed from the bottom of the stairs since before Fiero appeared in the doorway.

Aurora grabs my forearms and lists to the side. I murmur a string of words, half-comforting, half-stern, as I guide her onto her back.

“I’ve got you,” I say as I yank my long-sleeve shirt over my head and ball it up to press against her side.

She pushes me away.

“You’re bleeding, too.”

She’s right. Fire streaks through my side and hip.

“It’s nothing. I’ve had worse.Mio Dio, why are you bleeding so much? Stop fighting me. Let me apply pressure,” I snarl.

She shakes her head and pushes me away again.

“Desk. Top drawer,” she says.

Her words make no sense. Panic threatens to strip away my ability to reason as her blood soaks my suit coat at an alarming rate. I grab her wrists and move them out of the way before pressing my shirt to her side.

As she hisses, two of my men reach us. One kneels to assess Fiero while the second squats on Aurora’s other side.

Tristan skids into view.

“Go back downstairs, Tristan.”

Despite the warning in my tone, he ignores me. His eyes go wide as he sees the blood soaking Aurora’s side. He jumps over Fiero in the doorway and weaves around me.

I can’t spare a hand to stop him.

Aurora relaxes, and although she shakes from pain and shock, her eyes shine with relief.

Tristan drops beside me and tears open a sterile medical pouch. He reaches for my wrist, but after glimpsing the label, I lift my hand and the shirt away from her wound before he touches me.

She grits her teeth as he pours the entire packet of white powder into the gash. He jerks my hand back into place.

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