Page 77 of His Juliet

I drovelike a madman through Manhattan, not giving a fuck about the pissed-off New Yorkers honking at me on the way to Juliet’s shitty apartment. Why hadn’t I already moved her somewhere better? Why hadn’t I assigned men to guard her? Right, because I had some absurd idea that I should hold back from her, that my distance would keep her safe.

It was too fucking late for that now. I didn’t know how the Albanians had found her, but I did know what I would do to them once I found them. My inner monster surged, urging me to hunt them down, slice open their stomachs, fill them with gasoline, and burn them from the inside out.

It was my fault she was in danger. Today had been a reminder of how different our worlds were and what it would cost her to be a part of mine. Her life would be better without me in it, and if I were a better man, I would have stayed away after that first night in the bookstore.

But I hadn’t stayed away.

Couldn’t.

I cursed as a text flashed on my phone screen.

Sienna

Albanians drove by a second time. Slowed but didn’t stop.

Angelo and others on the way for backup

I parked haphazardly in the closest spot I could find outside Juliet’s apartment and slammed the car door behind me. I was out of breath by the time I stopped outside her door. I paused for the briefest second, trying to figure out what the fuck I was even going to say.

Sorry I lied to you and rejected you. Oh, also, we have to leave right now because sex traffickers are driving past your apartment, probably with the plan of kidnapping you so they can blackmail me.

God, I was such a useless asshole. How could I have put her at risk like this?

I raised my hand and knocked.

No answer.

I knocked again, harder this time.

When I still didn’t get a response, I called her phone and got her voicemail.

I called again.

With each moment that passed, the clawing feeling in my chest that told me something was very wrong grew. Had the Albanians already gotten inside? Or was Juliet ignoring me because of how I’d treated her?

I pounded on the door harder. “Juliet, answer the door.”

Sweat dripped down my back. I needed to get in there right the fuck now.

I grabbed the handle and rammed my shoulder into the door. The only good thing about the shitty construction in this building was that it gave way on the first try, a large crack forming down the middle and the handle partially coming off.

“Juliet?” My heart pounded as my eyes raked over the studio apartment. The tiny bed in the corner. The worn loveseat. The small wooden chair sat in front of the card table, which had two Mario Kart controllers on it.

Empty.

Fuck, what an idiot I was. Breaking down her door when she wasn’t even here. Was she at the bookstore? It was closed today, but that must be where she’d gone. I pulled out my phone and messaged a guy in the Family who took care of our repairs, sending him the details to come replace this entire front door, preferably with something bulletproof. Angelo and the other guys on their way could stay here in case the Albanians came inside while I went to the bookstore.

I was about to leave the apartment when the back of my neck prickled and a slow, sick feeling entered my stomach. I whirled around, facing the empty room, but my eyes were drawn to the closed door to my right. Before I knew what I was doing, I crossed the tiny apartment and threw open the bathroom door.

The sight that met me would be burned into my mind for the rest of time.

My girl, sitting on the bathroom floor in a pool of her own blood.

“Juliet!” I screamed.

No no no. She couldn’t be gone, she couldn’t.

I dropped to my knees, uncaring that blood was soaking into my pants. “Juliet!” I shook her shoulders, and her eyes blinked open.

---