Page 100 of Blood Heir

I breathe hard against Fioretta’s mouth as she reluctantly pulls back. Our foreheads rest together for a second longer.

I can barely stand. My entire body is on fire. But I don’t care. She’s here.

Cassian groans beside Emilia, leaning heavily against her. His temple’s bleeding, his breathing shallow, but he manages a crooked grin through the mess.

“Come on,” Fioretta whispers, slipping under my arm. I lean into her, groaning with every step as we stagger toward the doors.

Gunfire echoes behind us—Monte’s remaining men scrambling after us in the chaos. My legs threaten to buckle, but she holds firm, never letting me fall.

The night air punches into me as we break through the door into the courtyard. Cold rain slaps my skin like needles. Flashes of lightning illuminate the blood-slick stone beneath our feet.

A car waits. My eyes narrow. I don’t know how she pulled this off, but I know who I owe my life to.

“Keep moving!” she shouts, voice fierce as she helps shove Cassian into the backseat.

Emilia scrambles in after him. Fioretta practically throws me into the passenger seat before slamming the door and racing around to the driver’s side.

The engine roars to life as she floors the gas pedal. Tires scream against the rain-slicked ground.

Behind us, shouts explode into the air. Gunfire rains down on us, bullets slicing through the storm. A round shatters the rear windshield. Another pings off the roof.

I grunt as another sharp twist of pain cuts through my side, but I grit my teeth, my eyes flickering to her.

She’s gripping the wheel, knuckles white. Jaw clenched. Eyes locked ahead.

“My aunt,” I rasp, every word scraping my throat raw.

“I know,” she answers.

Chapter 22 - Fioretta

I grip the steering wheel so tight my knuckles ache. The rain has slowed now, but the sky is still a heavy gray, like it’s waiting to split open again. The freeway hums beneath the tires as we speed away, but I can’t breathe. My chest tightens more with every mile.

I slam the brakes. The tires screech, the car jerks forward, and Emilia screams, “Are you insane?”

The car skids a little before settling on the shoulder of the freeway. I shove open my door and swing around to the passenger side, flinging open Serevin’s door.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Emilia yells behind me.

Serevin blinks, dazed, wounded, barely holding himself up. His lips part like he’s about to ask the same question. But I don’t give him time.

“Out,” I snap.

His brows pull together. “Fioretta—”

I yank him by the arm before he can argue. His body is heavy against mine, but adrenaline fuels me. He grunts as I pull him out, his injured side pressing into me. I slam the door behind us.

Emilia throws her door open, leaning out, voice shrill. “Have you lost your damn mind?! We don’t have time for this! The meeting! The council! Do you want to die? Do you want him to die?!”

Her voice echoes across the empty road. She’s panicking. Always panicking.

“No one ever listens to me!” she shrieks again. “You’re all fucking stupid!”

I barely hear her anymore.

His face contorts as pain shoots through him, and I see it—the tremor in his jaw, the sharp exhale through gritted teeth—but still, he doesn't resist.

The moment his boots hit the ground, his knees buckle like they’re giving out from under him, and he crumples in front of me, collapsing hard onto the rough pavement.

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