Page 99 of Her Dark Salvation

Anna spun around, her face contorted in shock and confusion. She staggered forward, unsteady, but swiveled her head to watch the door as she ran into the street, completely oblivious to the oncoming car.

A horn blared. It combined with the car’s screeching tires to announce my worst nightmare.

The driver tried to veer from where Anna stood frozen in the middle of the street, arms lifted as if she could block the oncoming impact.

“Anna!” I shouted into the night.

The corner of the bumper slammed into her middle and tossed her into the air. Her tiny body tumbled over the hood and fell limp onto the street. The back of her head bounced off the frozen pavement, and she went completely still, arms and legs strewn at unnatural angles.

“Call an ambulance!” Panic and helplessness fueled each movement. I ran to her, reached for her, desperate to gather her into my arms and protect her.

I pulled back. What if her neck was broken? My stomach heaved. I pressed my fingers to her wrist instead. She had a pulse, and her chest rose and fell with her breath.

“Grazie a Dio,” I mumbled. “Anna.” My voice shook as badly as my hands. “Anna. Please.”

Blood trickled from her mouth. A bruise purpled the side of her face. I frowned. That wasn’t from the car.

I looked up, trying to piece together what the hell had happened. A man stood on the sidewalk outside Vesuvio. He was dressed in all black, a gun held loosely in his hand. He stared at me, crouched over my Anna’s broken body.

Rage launched me off the pavement and across the street, and its heat blazed through my eyes. The man paled and ran back through the entrance.

The club was dark except for the neon exit sign at the rear. It backlit another man standing in the middle of the room. He lifted his gun and shot me twice in the stomach.

The bullets tore through my abdomen and out my back, a searing path that ripped a howl from my lungs. I stumbled, and my hands flew to the bloody wounds.

I’d been shot before; nothing prepares you for the impact or the burning pain. But I caught my breath after only a heartbeat, my blood and adrenaline fueling my body’s accelerated healing. It surged with the unnatural strength released by the rage coursing through my veins.

Hot, manic fury took control, and my fangs descended in an unholy promise. “You’re a fucking dead man!”

I sprang across the distance like a feral animal and knocked the gun from his grip. I held his head with my right hand and drove my left fist into the side of his stunned face. It crushed his skull at his temple, and he fell to the floor, dead.

The man I’d followed into the club looked on in horror. I fixed my attention on him, and he lunged for the emergency exit at the back. I reached him in no more than a heartbeat, grabbed his arm, and spun him around to face me. I gripped him by the throat and clamped down on his windpipe. His fingers tore at mine, clawing for air, and I squeezed.

“Who sent you?” I snarled.

His eyes went wide, bulging out of his face.

I pulled back. I needed to find out who’d hurt my Anna. “Who! Sent! You!” I bared my fangs.

Tears slid down his cheeks as he clawed at my hand. The sharp smell of urine pierced my nostrils. He opened his mouth and tapped my hand. I loosened my grip.

“Sh—Shaughnessy,” he croaked.

Rage spilled over, and I howled a barbaric scream containing all the anger that had been building since I’d found out about Luca and my absolute terror at the thought of losing Anna.

“Did you touch her?” I bellowed, and my unrelenting grip turned deadly.

He opened his mouth but couldn’t answer; I’d crushed his windpipe. It didn’t matter; I saw the answer in his eyes.

My fingers dug into his neck, burrowing into flesh till I clenched my fist around its insides. Blood oozed between my fingers and streamed down my forearm. With a jerk, I ripped out his throat. His body crumpled to the floor. My breath came hot and fast, and I tossed the man’s throat onto the bloody mess of his corpse.

“Marco.”

Blood dripped from my fingers, but it was nothing compared to the river of blood that would flow in the wake of my vengeance against the Shaughnessys.

“Marco!”

“What?” I snapped and spun around.

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