Page 117 of Fire and Silk
He leaned closer. I could still feel the heat of him, the slow drag of his knuckles across my cheekbone.
“Aim it at yourself.”
I’d blinked. “What?”
“You won’t hurt yourself. But you’ll threaten to. And he’ll believe you.”
I shook my head. “He won’t.”
His eyes were steady. Tired. But sure.
“Would you rather shoot yourself… or go to Italy?”
I didn’t answer. Not right away. He didn’t push. Just waited.
Then I said it. “I’d rather shoot myself in the face.”
His lips curved—understanding.
“Then he’ll believe you.”
The memory fades, but my body holds to it.
I stare down the men, the gun pressed to my skin, and I see it land. They see it. The resolve.
Mico chokes, one hand still gripping his neck as he wheezes for air. His voice is rough, ragged. “Stand back!” he barks at the guards. “Don’t touch her!”
The men freeze, barely glancing between themselves.
Then Matteo steps out from the shadows. His shirt is half-unbuttoned, his sleeves rolled, one hand casually resting on the butt of his weapon. His gaze sweeps the scene—me with the gun to my temple, Mico crouched on the ground.
I raise my chin, finger still taut on the trigger. “Don’t take another step, or I’ll fucking do it.”
Matteo blinks . He doesn’t stop.
“Do I look like I care?” he asks flatly, his mouth barely moving.
“Matteo, stop!” Mico’s voice cracks. “I said stand down—she’s not bluffing!”
Matteo keeps coming.
The truck groans behind us.
In a blur, Severo leaps from the bed. His body slams into Matteo, knocking him off-balance. They hit the ground hard, and Severo’s fist cracks across Matteo’s jaw. The sound splits the silence.
One of the guards lunges forward, weapon rising.
“Don’t!” I scream. “I’ll do it—I swear I will!”
My voice ricochets through the air, high. The barrel presses tighter against my skin. The guards freeze.
“Stand down!” Mico roars, stumbling to his feet, still holding his throat. “Everyone, stand down!”
Severo grabs my wrist, his eyes locking with mine. “Run.”
He doesn’t wait.
He pulls me hard. My feet stumble over roots and gravel, but I find my balance. We bolt into the trees. Branches whip past, cold wind slaps my face, the ground uneven beneath every step.
