Page 144 of Ruthless Redemption

He rests his head back against the wall. “My men and my surgeon.”

I swallow and lick my drying lips. “I don’t know what else to do for you until they arrive. But I can help Matthew.”

“You’ll only get in the way.”

“Please don’t argue with me.” I grasp his hands, the blood on our skin making the contact slippery. “I don’t want to have to hurt you to get the key, but I think you know I will. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

His lips press tight. Offended or stubborn I’m not sure.

“Please, Lorenzo.”

He glares. Snarls. Then leans to one side, wincing as he reaches into his pants pocket to retrieve the blood-covered key. “Shoot first and ask questions later. At least for my sake. I have a feeling I’ll be the next person on Matthew’s kill list if you don’t survive.”

I snatch the offering along with the gun and prepare to scramble to my feet.

“Wait.” He clutches my wrist, his head cocked toward the yard. “Listen.”

I frown, not hearing anything but the screams of wildlife and the shout of men.

The screams of wildlife…

The shouts of men…

No gunfire.

No battle.

“It’s over?” I push to stand, gripping Lorenzo’s forearm to help pull him up with me.

As soon as he’s stable, I run for the glass, taking in the bodies strewn across the yard.

Salvatore remains at the door, his back to me, his attention focused across the pool.

“Matt, are you okay?” He stalks away from the house.

I follow his line of sight and watch as Matthew stumbles from the deck.

He’s ghostly white.

Hurt.

I fumble to put the key in the lock, my fingers trembling, my limbs shaking. I miss the hole over and over, my heart contracting like a vise. “Help me.” I don’t know who I’m pleading with. Myself? God? “I can’t get the door open.”

“Let me.” Lorenzo limps forward, taking the key from my quivering palm. He inserts the metal into the lock, twists it, opens the door, then pushes it wide as Matthew collapses to his knees in front of Remy.

I run for him. Oblivious to any danger. Unconcerned about threats. “Matthew.”

I reach him alongside Salvatore, both his brothers guiding him to the ground, turning him to his side to expose the shard embedded in his back.

“It’s okay.” I kneel next to him, cupping his face. “Help is on the way.”

“What help?” Salvatore asks. “This place is a bloodbath.”

“Lorenzo said a doctor is coming.” I keep my eyes on Matthew, drowning in the bleakness of his expression. “You’re going to be fine.”

He doesn’t look fine.

He looks like death.

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