Page 20 of Devour
I call out to Dominic before heading up to get Ariel, “let the girl help you before you fucking bleed out all over the floors.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ariel
The gunfire has stopped, but I can’t stop pacing. My hands tremble, and I’m biting my lip out of habit, but I can’t help it. I’m worried sick about Mia. I tried calling her, but she’s not answering.
She’s down there, she—God, what if she’s hurt? I don’t even want to think about it. I can’t take it anymore. I need to know what’s going on. Just as my hand reaches for the door, it flies open. I reel back, bracing for one of the shooters—But it’s Luca.
Relief crashes over me so fast, I don’t think—I just move. I throw myself into his arms, wrapping mine around his neck, rising on my tiptoes to hug him.
“Oh, thank God…” His body goes rigid. He doesn’t hug me back. Reality slams into me, and I realize my mistake. I quickly released him, stepping back.
His brow is furrowed tight like he’s furious, and my touch only made it worse. I step back mouthing sorry
“We have to go. Now,” he says, flat and cold.
Before I can respond, he grabs my arm and pulls me through the door. The workers are scrambling about, murmuring things I can’t quite catch over the noise.
I want to stop, ask one of them if anyone’s hurt, if they’ve seen Mia, if she’s okay but Luca doesn’t stop dragging me along. And I doubt he will, even if I beg to check on my friend.
We exit through the back door. He doesn’t release my hand until we reach a sleek, black car with tinted windows. He opens the passenger door.
“Get in.”
I hesitate, stepping back. After what I just witnessed tonight, I’m not sure I want to go anywhere with this man. He’s dangerous. Before I can think of an escape, the back of my head bumps against his chest. I freeze. I turn slightly, our eyes locking.
“Now,” he says, low and final like his word is law and testing his patience would be a mistake.
I quickly slid into the seat. He shuts the door with a firm click and walks around to the driver’s side, slipping in beside me without another word.
He swerves out of the parking lot, the tires screeching against the pavement. If not for the seatbelt and his big hand bracing in front of me, I might have flown out of my seat.
“Where do you stay?” he asks, eyes on the road.
“Um…” I hesitate. I don’t want him to know where I live. “You can just drop me off at the nearest bus stop. I can handle myself from there.” He growls, low and sharp.
“Woman, don’t test my patience, you'll find out I have none.”
I swallow hard and quickly give him my address. He punches it into the GPS without a word. I relaxed a little. At least I know where he’s taking me, not to some unknown place to do Lord knows what.
Luca is quiet as he drives. His hands are steady on the wheel, his posture relaxed, but I can see the tension simmering beneath the surface. His jaw keeps clenching, tight with barely contained rage.
I keep glancing at him, unsure if it’s the right time to ask. But curiosity and worry win out. Finally, he catches one of my looks and exhales sharply.
“What is it?”
My words spill out in a rush. “What happened? Why did the shooting start?” He pauses for a long moment, and I start to think he won’t answer.
“It was the Italian mob,” he finally says, voice low. “They’re trying to mess with us.” He says it like it’s nothing. Like the word Italian mobs are just another part of a normal Wednesday.
“And that’s all you need to know,” he adds, like a full stop I shouldn’t cross.
I nod, but my mind screams. I don’t want to know more. God, I wish I hadn’t asked. I wish I hadn’t walked in on that scene earlier.
I wish I hadn’t seen them dragging that bag—And I know it wasn’t animal blood I saw dripping from it, no matter how much I try to lie to myself. I shift in my seat, trying not to fidget, but my body’s betraying me—sweaty palms, shallow breaths, a wild thumping in my chest.
The only best friend I have might be hurt. Luca is in the mob. The father of my child is the head of the mob. What the hell have I done to deserve this?
