I didn't want to go, didn't want to be out in the open where bullets sliced through the air and explosions turned my world upside down. "It's okay," Joaquin said, tucking me into his side and guiding me out into the light, despite my mediocre struggles.
Rafael sensed the movement as I pulled away from Joaquin's side, determined to stand on my own two feet despite the sheer agony that claimed my body. I felt the moment Rafael's eyes landed on me, felt the simultaneous and overwhelming relief and fury in them as he took in the sight of me alive.
Even if it felt like I was only just.
I couldn't imagine what he saw staring back at him, but he darted forward suddenly. By the time I realized my legs were crumpling underneath me, he'd caught me in his arms and supported my weight. "Jesus. Fuck," he groaned, touching the back of my head to clutch me to his chest. I whimpered in pain, feeling his hand still as he registered the wetness matted in my hair.
Santiago dragged a man up over the top of the steps with his hand at his throat, and Rafael's entire body tensed as he turned to level the man with his fiercest glare. Anyone with reasonable intelligence would have withered up and died at the ferocity in it. The pure, blinding rage as his arms trembled around me took my breath away.
Rafael shifted me into Joaquin's grip, stepping to meet Santiago and the man halfway. Cocking his fist back, he struck the man in the jaw with all the strength in his body as he curled his abs into the punch. The man crumpled to the ground at Santiago's feet, spitting out blood and a tooth as I watched. "She will burn," the man growled, his stare shifting beyond Rafael to meet my eyes. "And all of you along with her."
Rafael kicked him in the face, snapping his head back as he fell in an unconscious heap. "Is he dead?" I said, and while I'd thought I whispered the words Rafael and Santiago's attention snapped back to me.
"No," Rafael growled. "He only wishes he was." He came back to me, plucking me into his arms as headlights appeared in the parking lot. Three black vehicles and a beat up old van rolled in. The cars I recognized from the house as belonging to Rafe's men, but the van was unfamiliar. "Fucking take care of him. I want himalive,Ryker,"Rafael growled to the muscular man who stepped out of the driver's seat.
"Got it,Devil," the man said, his face twisted in a grimace as he grabbed the unconscious man by the shirt and dragged his limp form over the pavement and tossed him into the back of the van. Closing the doors with a final slam and a lock, he turned back to us. His eyes landed on me, sympathy in them as he offered words I thought he meant to be encouraging. "He'll suffer for every pain," he said, hopping into the driver's seat as Rafe brought me to one of the cars.
"Who was that?" I asked, forcing the sound up my sore throat. "The man who said I would burn?"
Rafael tensed as he settled me across his lap in the backseat of the car, Joaquin climbing in beside us and Santiago taking the vacant front seat. "Timofey Kuznetsov," he growled. "Pavel's youngest."
I didn't dare to ask the other question plaguing me or give it a voice, not when I didn't think I was ready for the answer. Not then. Maybe not ever. Because he hadn't threatened Rafe's life.
He'd threatened mine.
"The shooters were aiming for me," I said, pressing tighter to his chest. He didn't answer, confirming my thoughts with his silence. I swallowed, shoving back the concern for the future and wondering what this meant for our safety and ability to stay in Chicago.
We needed answers, and nothing would get in my way of finding them. Especially not men who seemed to think they'd be better off with me dead.