Page 86 of Savage Roses

With or without his approval. He’ll have to physically stop me.

“Delphine!” he shouts in gobsmacked horror as he stumbles into the bedroom.

I’m shoving my feet into boots and shucking myself into a leather jacket.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going? You can’t—”

“Get out of my way, Stitches.”

“I can’t let you leave. Calm down. You’re hysterical.”

“I said get out of my way!”

Desperation pulses through me. I drive forward and sweep my leg fast enough to catch him off guard and knock him down. He’s lucky I didn’t do worse.

Though I do steal his weapon. As he crashes to the ground on his back like a crustacean momentarily stuck on its shell, I hold him down with my thighs and snatch his M9. When he tries to wrest it away, he’s greeted by the base of my palm to his nose.

“Sorry,” I pant, leaping up. “You’ve left me no other choice. I’m getting the fuck out of here.”

“Miss ADA… you can’t… GET BACK HERE!”

Stitches summons enough speed to throw himself toward the door. His shoulder drives into it, cutting me off mere footsteps away.

“I can’t… his orders…” he wheezes.

I cock the hammer and point the M9 at him. “Stitches, move out of the way.”

“You wouldn’t?”

“I need to go. You need to let me.”

“I can’t. I promised him. You have to stay here. It’s… it’s for your own safety.”

A distressed breath quivers its way out of me. “This isn’t about me—it’s about Salvatore! You’ve been keeping things from me. You haven’t heard from him in days!”

“It was always a possibility. We’re not sure yet what’s going on.”

“Which is why I need to find out.”

“You’ll leave over my dead body. I vowed I’d look after you so long as I’m alive. So pull the fucking trigger!”

I glare at Salvatore’s right hand—and for all intents purposes, his best friend—and even through my wild panic, grief, and anger, I can’t do it. I can’t hurt Stitches. He’s been nothing but a devoted and loyal friend.

My hand’s shaking as I lower the gun and then drop it altogether. My tears return with a vengeance.

“Miss ADA, you’re frustrated. I get it! We all are, alright?” Stitches holsters his M9 and moves to slide an arm around me. “But we’ve got to see this through. We’ve got to carry out Salvatore’s wishes. This is how he wanted it. We’ve got to be patient and wait.”

“He’s hurt, Francis. Something’s wrong.”

“I’ll… I’ll try reaching out again after breakfast. Maybe he’s just been busy. I’m sure that’s all that’s going on.”

But even he doesn’t sound like he believes a word of his reassurances.

* * *

The next day and a half is torture. I’m back to lying despondently in bed as Stitches begs me to eat or get up and stretch my legs. Salt and Pepa make their own attempts to cheer me up. The two fluff balls paw and swat at me as if hoping they’ll goad me into defending myself if they’re combative enough.

I’m checked out. My mind’s on Salvatore and the premonition I’ve been having that something is deeply wrong.

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