Page 39 of Thorns of Desire
Cazzo.
My heart rate tripled as my reflexes jolted into motion, shooting blindly. The man fell through the open window and spilled onto the ground.
“What was that?” I recognized Raven’s voice.
“N-nothing,” Athena called out, her eyes wide as blood soaked her shirt. “I dropped a vase.”
“Jesus, Athena. It's the middle of the night. You can reorganize your room tomorrow.”
I wrenched her closer, searching frantically for a wound. Terror gripped its cold fingers around my throat with each second that I couldn’t find it.
“Where is it?” I rasped, my eyes burning in a way they hadn’t in years as I held her in my arms. “Cazzo, where did the bullet go?”
She glanced behind me and I followed her gaze to the bullet that was lodged into the wall. I swallowed, taking a calming breath, before I finally saw it. It grazed her arm, and the blood was dripping onto her shirt.Surface wound, I thought, squeezing my eyes closed and sighing.
I stroked the hair back from her forehead, her ashen face and green eyes staring at me. I whispered words in Italian, ones that had often brought me comfort, hoping to soothe her.
She pressed her face into my chest, rocking against me.
“Don’t let them bury me,” she whispered over and over again. “Please, don’t let them.”
Taken aback by her words, I kissed her head and rubbed her back. There was something about her terror that gutted me to my core.
“You’ll be okay,” I murmured, bending low over her pale face. “I’ll take care of you.”
She blinked, then nodded. “Thank you.”
I didn’t deserve her thanks. I failed to protect her.Madre di Cristo.I recited every single curse in my mind.
As I held her in my arms, a single thought occurred to me: I would do anything to protect this woman.
And there was no coming back from it.
SEVENTEEN
ATHENA
Ihad no idea how much time had passed. One minute it was just the two of us, and the next, men dressed all in black waltzed in through my window, clearing my room of any evidence—bodies, blood, bullets—of what had transpired. I sat against my headboard, watching in awe as they worked in total silence. Literally—not a sound came from them. They were obviously professionals, but I couldn’t help cringing thinking about how many crime scenes they’d had to work in order to become so skilled.
Leaving his men to do their work, Manuel snuck me into the bathroom and cleaned out my wound, then helped me out of my blood-soaked pajamas. He worked carefully and with an intensity I couldn’t describe.
Once back in the room, he tucked me into my bed and sat by my side.
“Leave the curtain partly open,” I mumbled.
He frowned but didn’t question it, opening them to give me an unobstructed view of my freedom. Did it make sense? No. But it was what I needed to feel safe.
“Bene?” he asked. “Better?”
“Yes, thank you,” I rasped, pressing a hand to my chest. I had to release some of this pressure or I’d suffocate.
“Breathe,amorina,” he instructed. “Nobody will hurt you.” He took my hand off my chest and put it over his heart. I focused on his heartbeats and followed with my own. “That’s right. Breathe in. Breathe out.”
Eventually, my terror eased and oxygen came easier.
“Are you okay?” I startled at Manuel’s voice and found him studying me with a frown.
“Am I okay?” A strangled laugh, bordering on hysterical, escaped me. “Am Iokay?” He shifted me so I was sitting on his lap. “No, I’m not okay. What the fuck was that?”
