Page 68 of The Assassin's Captive
"I think you'd rather believe this is some psychological manipulation than accept that you chose to trust me. That you chose to let me touch you. That you chose to?—"
The first gunshot cuts through his words like a blade.
The sound echoes off the stone buildings with a sharp and unmistakable crack. Then another. And another. Lorenzo's entire body goes rigid, his hand dropping from my face to the weapon concealed beneath his jacket.
"Get down."
He doesn't wait for me to comply. His arm circles my waist, pulling me down behind the low stone wall that borders the terrace. The rough stone scrapes against my palms as I brace myself, my heart hammering against my ribs.
More gunfire erupts from the street below. Not random shots—coordinated, professional. Multiple weapons firing in sequence, creating overlapping fields of coverage.
"Stay down." Lorenzo's voice has transformed completely. Gone is the man who was touching my face moments ago. In his place is the assassin, cold and focused and deadly. "Don't move. Don't look up. Don't do anything unless I tell you to."
Through the stone balusters, I can see muzzle flashes in the darkness across the street. Men in dark clothing moving together in sync like they're trained military, advancing on the club from multiple angles. This isn't a random attack. It's a coordinated assault.
Lorenzo speaks rapidly into a device I hadn't noticed him carrying. "Perimeter breach. Multiple shooters. Serena's position compromised."
Voices shout from inside the club, Costa's men mobilizing, taking defensive positions. I hear the sound of furniture being overturned, the crash of glass as windows are shot out.
"How many?" I whisper.
"At least six. Probably more." Lorenzo's eyes scan the street below, tracking movement I can't see. "Professional. Well-equipped. They've been planning this."
An explosion rocks the building. Not close enough to damage the terrace, but powerful enough to shake the stone beneath us. Car alarms begin wailing in the distance, and I can smell smoke in the night air.
"The parking garage," Lorenzo says grimly. "They're cutting off escape routes."
Through the chaos, I hear a scream. High-pitched, agonized. Someone has been hit.
Lorenzo tenses beside me, his hand moving to his weapon. "We need to move. Now."
"Where?"
"Inside. This terrace is too exposed."
He's right. We're trapped on a narrow stone ledge with minimal cover, perfect targets for anyone with a clear shot from the surrounding buildings. But the idea of running back into the club, toward the gunfire, goes against every instinct I have.
"Serena." Lorenzo's voice cuts through my paralysis. "Trust me."
I meet his eyes and see absolute certainty there. No doubt. No fear. Complete confidence in his ability to keep me alive.
"Okay."
He moves first, rising from behind the stone wall in a fluid motion. His weapon appears in his hand as if materialized from thin air, and he fires twice at targets I can't see. Return fire chips stone from the railing where my head had been moments before.
"Move," his voice booms, and I don't think. I run.
Lorenzo stays between me and the street, his body shielding mine as we cross the exposed terrace. Another burst of gunfire shatters the windows of the club, sending glass cascading onto the cobblestones below.
The door to the club is reinforced steel disguised as wood. Lorenzo yanks it open and shoves me through, followingimmediately behind. The sound of gunfire becomes muffled but doesn't stop.
Inside, chaos reigns. Costa's men have overturned tables and positioned themselves at windows, returning fire at the attackers in the street. The air is thick with smoke and the acrid smell of gunpowder.
"Lorenzo!" Emilio's voice cuts through the noise. He's positioned behind an overturned bar, a pistol in his hand. "How many?"
"Eight confirmed. Maybe more." Lorenzo guides me toward a heavy wooden door marked with no visible signs. "They're using the parking garage explosion as cover for a ground assault."
"They want her."
