Page 108 of The Devil's Obsession (East Coast Devils 3)

Romy

It feels like I’m having an out-of-body experience, watching myself. A fascinated spectator among the sea of confused partygoers, watching all the horrors that live in my mind seep through my mouth and flood the room.

“Leonid Belsky promised me a job and a stable income, the ultimate dream for an orphan with no formal education. I did not realize that his idea of a job was prostitution, and it wasn’t long before he was pimping me out to his colleagues…”

I watch myself talk, rattling off the reason behind every scar Belsky left on my blackened heart. Of course, I don’t mention anything that would incriminate me. Belsky might be a monster, but I’m no saint, either. I’ve concealed a lot because that’s what I’ve always done. My life has always been a string of half-truths because I’m constantly keeping some parts of myself hidden in the shadows. Whether it be my sorry childhood, or my real name, or even my intentions, I choose what I show the world.

Feeling Donnacha’s gaze scorching the side of my face, I turn, basking under the rays of his admiration. The crowd’s collective hysteria builds up around us like a symphony, and in the middle of it, I find myself laughing, then laughing even harder when concern clouds my husband’s beautiful features. It dawns on me that he’s the only person who’s seen me in all of my glory, in the cold light of day. I have nothing to hide, and now, if we don’t make it out alive, then at least I can say I died free.

That I rose from the ashes of my sins.

Feniks!

“I don’t even know her,” Belsky bellows to the crowd, now that his microphone has been cut off. “I’ve never seen this woman in my life.”

His men are closing in, shuffling through the bodies to get to us. People turn, their cogs whirring and clicking into place when they see me. The silver-haired girl on the screen telling her truth.

Cameras flash. Women gasp. And as Donnacha grips my hand and pulls me toward the back of the room, I’ve never felt so fucking alive.

“Let’s get out of here,” he growls on the back of my neck. I can practically feel the adrenaline on his breath.

The crowds part like the Red Sea, and I kick off my heels to run through it faster, dodging Belsky’s men. Swinging jaws and stuttered conversations pass by in a blur. We spill out to the lobby, the street just a few feet away.

We are so close. We’re going to make it. We’re going to be free.

Donnacha’s grip on my hand tightens, and as we push through the doors and our car screeches into view, he turns to pin me with that dazzling grin. The one that lights up the darkest places of my soul. “We’re almost there, sweetheart. We’re—”

Bang.

I hear the bullet before I see it. It whistles past my ear, and as I duck, I feel Donnacha fold on top of me.

“No!”

One bullet, followed by a barrage of others, and I’m too disorientated to see where they’re coming from. White flashes, a pool of red, the dusty smell of gun powder, then suddenly my bare feet are no longer touching the ground. Donnacha’s fingers tear out of mine, and when I look up, I see his men swarming him, carrying him into the car. I’m bundled in after him, falling on top of him on the floorboard.

“Donnacha!” I scream, rolling him onto his back and ripping open his blazer to reveal the red puddle seeping through his shirt. “Fuck!”

His eyes graze over my face and body with panic I’ve never seen before clouding his features. “Are you—?”

“I’m fine!” I yell, gently pushing down his shoulders to stop him from moving. “You’ve been shot.”

He touches his wound and winces, then stares at his bloodied hand in disbelief.

“And so I have.”

“We’re getting you to the hospital right away, boss,” Ronan growls from the front seat before yelling at Carl to step on it.

I curl my hand in his and bring it to my lips. “You’re going to be okay. Just hold on.”

His chuckle doesn’t sound like his. It comes out in a little wheeze, followed by another wince. “You know,” he murmurs, turning his attention to the car ceiling, “I’ve seen a lot of blood in my time, but funnily enough, I’m not very good at seeing my own.”

I laugh skittishly. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

“And you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he mutters, eyes twinkling.

Without thinking twice, I put one hand over the other and push against his wound, stemming the blood flow. Then I press my lips against his, absorbing every hiss and wince.

I have just freed myself from Belsky, but some things will never change.

Like the fact I’m a stubborn bitch by nature, and I’m never letting go.

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