Page 33 of Saint Of Envy
“Get off of me, you motherfucker!” I scream a shrill stream of profanities. “God damn you, Leonardo, get the fuck off of me, you monster! Luc is going to come for you for what you’ve done to me and our child. He’s going to come for you, and he’s going to kill you!”
I practically spat that last sentiment at him. I feel as if I’m seething and foaming at the mouth with rage and fear mixed as one.
“By the time Luciano catches up to us—if he even catches up to us,” he taunts. “You’ll have my seed inside of you, and it will be too late. I’ll shoot him just like his cousin shot Angelo Barone, and then there will be nothing stopping me from giving you the life you actually deserve, Valentina—a life as my lovely, obedient, trophy wife that does exactly as she’s told or meets with the butt of my gun at the side of her pretty face.”
His threat is meant to silence me into futile compliance. Instead, in an instant, it reminds me of something.
My eyes dart down to his waist and to the holster that is still attached to his unbuttoned pants, and that’s when I see it. Leonardo forgot that he still had his gun on his waist.
Just as he goes to stick his cock into me, I reach for the gun.
It’s a bold, desperate move. I don’t even know if the gun is loaded or if I can draw it from the holster in one motion. His distraction and vulnerable position give me a few precious seconds to surprise him.
The look on his face is priceless when I swiftly pull the gun free, aim it at his chest, and take the shot before the tip of his erect penis can touch me. I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen Leonardo look like he knows defeat.
He always has an arrogant air about him. Having the upper hand, being the richest, smartest, most powerful man in the room—but not this time. I plan to block out his entire experience from my memory someday, but the look on his face right now, I will gladly remember.
Firing the shot causes Leonardo to release his grip on me. He falls to the side, with a little help from me, and clenches his hand to the now-gushing bullet hole just below his ribcage. His body falls like dead weight onto the sand, limp dick and all, as he hits the ground. Only his wide, surprised eyes and the gaping open mouth that hangs in shock still show signs of life.
I kick him in the side, not because he needs it in order to help him through the veil of death, but because it brings me great pleasure to know that I can cause the bastard pain, too.
“Die here alone, Leonardo,” I say as I turn back to his car. “Die here and know that you leave nothing behind—no legacy, no heir, nothing. Tomorrow, people will forget your name except for the stories of your shameful death, your dried-up cock exposed in the desert sun.”
He tries to say something, but all that escapes his mouth is a gurgle of blood. Vindicated, I walk back toward the car to drive back to Luc. But before I can make it more than a few steps, something happens.
In all the chaos, from the preparations for selling me off at the auction, to the ambush inside the estate’s ballroom, and then finally to this horrific experience in the desert in which Leonardo almost forced himself onto me—I haven’t had time to even think about that pill.
Whatever the drug has been doing in my system since I was forced to swallow it, I haven’t felt a thing. But now I do.
A sharp pain pierces my stomach, one that is so severe it causes me to buckle down to my knees. I’m only a few feet away from the car, but I can’t reach it. It’s all I can do to curl up in pain and hold my stomach with the palms of both hands as I cry.
“No, no,” I cry as I try to sob and breathe through the pain.
Above me, circling vultures make me wonder if they await Leonardo’s death or mine.
I try to stand up and walk again, this time, making it only a single step before the pain returns. I stay on my feet as I hold my stomach and suck in tight breaths to ride out the feeling as if my uterus is being compressed inside of a vice grip. But when the feeling subsides, even a small enough amount for me to take a step, a new feeling emerges.
Something warm and wet is running down my leg. I look to see the crimson streak that streams down my leg and makes a small puddle near my foot in the sand. I’m going to bleed out here if I don’t make it to the car, and the circling vultures overhead know it.
I cry again. This isn’t how things were supposed to go. Luc and I were supposed to be together and happy and start a family. I was supposed to be free and have a healthy pregnancy, and we were supposed to be in love and have a child together. None of this is how it was supposed to go. The old woman was right all along—I should never have had hope. Some girls don’t get happy endings. Some of us only get the lot we’re dealt. And for me, that apparently means dying in this desert along with my unborn child.
With every ounce of strength and determination that I have left, I try to make it closer to the car. I move slowly, deliberately, making sure not to fall down onto the ground again because I know that if I do, I won’t be able to get back up. When I get close enough to see into the car’s window, I notice there are no keys in the ignition. I turn to look back toward Leonardo and see his possessions scattered around his now-dead body. The gun that I used to shoot him with is there in the sand, a few feet away from where he lies, and just past that, I can see the shining reflection of his metal car keys.
I cry again as intense pain sweeps over me, knowing that I won’t make it to get the keys and get back to the car, not like this—not while I feel like I’m both going to pass out and be sick and die all at once. So, I take the final few steps toward the car, crying and holding my stomach as I leave a trail of blood in my wake. At least if I make it to the car, I can lie down on the seat andpass out. Whatever happens after that, I leave to God or fate or whatever now controls what happens to me.
As soon as I get close enough to the car to reach out and touch the door handle, I see my reflection in the window, covered in Leonardo’s blood, and pale as a ghost from the loss of my own. I look like an apparition, and I think perhaps I’m seeing one too. Before I pull the handle open, I see something else coming toward me off in the distance. A black car, speeding so fast that it is kicking up a veritable sandstorm behind its wheels. I don’t think I’m imagining it or hallucinating because I can hear the rev of the engine and smell the fuel burning as it comes to a quick stop.
Then, a man steps out of the car and runs toward me.
“Valentina!”
My eyes tunnel as I look with hope up ahead at the face that I want to see more than anything else.
“Luc?”
CHAPTER 19
LUC
