Page 82 of Pretty Little Game

BIANKA

I pluck at my brother’s jacket as I wait, my mind tortured over what might be happening. The gunfire in the distance makes my heart falter nervously.Is that the Matron’s guns or Nicolo’s and my brother’s? Is Nicolo playing nice and making sure he brings my brother back alive?

Seeing the strength of the combined mafia forces, I actually have hope of them bringing Cassio back alive.Ifhe still is alive. Now that I’m alone with my thoughts, they wander back to the sight of the blood-soaked forest floor, and once again, I’m left wondering.

To try and occupy my mind until they come back, I turn my eyes to the two men Nicolo left behind. They’re younger than most of my brother’s men; I would guess just a few years older than me. The blond one seems restless, his eyes looking toward the action longingly.

The other, a handsome guy with caramel-colored skin and curly dark hair, watches me with light golden-brown eyes. I almost strike up a conversation, something to distract me from the rescue attempt underway. But then everything falls silent, and I turn my eyes toward the house.

Swallowing hard, I try not to panic. Maybe it’s a good thing. Still, I can’t bring myself to sit any longer. Sliding from the back of the jeep, I limp closer to the property’s stone wall, trying to hear any sign of what’s happening.

Fresh fury at my brother for making me stay behind fills my chest, and tears sting my eyes. I can’t stand this waiting.

“They’ll come back,” the golden-eyed boy says, stepping closer to me.

I can’t tell if he did so to comfort me or keep me within arm’s reach in case I should try and make a break for it. I’m sure I wouldn’t get far anyway.

“How can you be so sure?” I ask, worrying my lip.

He gives a casual shrug. “Nicolo always gets his way. He wouldn’t let anything happen to his brother–or your friend.”

I give him a weak smile. “Thanks.”

We fall silent, and I keep my eyes on the tree line as we wait. Then, after several long minutes, I hear the faint sound of a plane’s engines chugging to life. My heart stops. I don’t know what that could possibly mean, but in my mind, it can’t be a good thing.

It has to indicate the Matron is still alive, at the very least.

“Come on, Ilya,” I murmur, tears springing to my eyes. Clasping my hands in front of me, I silently plead for him to safely bring Cassio back to me.

In the full light of day, I see the plane go airborne, rising above the tops of the trees. It’s definitely the Matron’s plane I arrived in.But what does that mean? Where is Ilya? Where are Cassio and his brothers? What about Ellie?

Turning a wide-eyed gaze toward the golden-eyed boy, I ask him silently. This time, his expression is less confident. But he doesn’t answer me. That means it’s not a good sign.

And isn’t it taking too long for any survivors to come back to me?

Then comes the distant crunch of tires on a gravel drive. Hope bursts to life in my chest as I turn my attention in the direction of the road and where Nicolo’s Escalades departed to when they first left me here to wait.

Intense relief washes through me as those same cars round the bend, coming into view for the first time. I barely dare to breathe as I wait for them to roll to a stop and for the passengers to climb out once again.

Ilya appears along with Alek and Yefim from one of the cars, all looking perfectly well intact and safe, and my shoulders sag gratefully. Then the next set of doors open, revealing Nicolo and, behind him, Ellie, firmly wrapped in Lucca’s embrace.

A smile breaks across my face as I meet her eyes, and she beams. Then my eyes dart to the far side of the car, suddenly anxious that it won’t be Cassio I see. All I can make out is a dark head of hair over the top of the vehicle, and I can’t wait.

Rushing forward, I make my way around the front of the car, and then shocked horror stops me short. It is Cassio, and to my immense relief, he’s alive. But I’ve never seen him in such rough shape.

He’s covered in blood, his sleek tux drenched in it, making me wonder just how injured he must be. It can’t all be his, or he wouldn’t still be on his feet. But the blood on his face terrifies me, because I can see the cut it came from–a long angry gash along his cheek–which means he is injured, though he wasn’t the last time I saw him.

His eyes quickly scan his surroundings and then find me. And the intensity within their hazel depths rocks me to my very core. I’m running without even thinking, my bare feet flying across the ground like it’s nothing.

“Cass!” I sob, colliding with him without slowing, throwing my arms around his neck.

He grunts with the force of my impact, and still, his arms enfold me. We spin nearly a full circle from my momentum. All I can see is Cassio, his emotion-filled eyes, and the way they look at me like I’m the single most precious thing he’s ever seen.

“Oh, god, you’re alive,” I breathe, rising onto my toes to kiss him as I gently cup his uninjured cheek.

He holds me close, keeping me warm and safe as he kisses me passionately, his lips pressed firmly against mine, demanding more of me. We kiss with a desperation I’ve never known before, our tongues stroking together almost more to reassure us that this is, in fact, real. We’re in each other’s arms.

Finally, when my lungs are burning from lack of oxygen, we break the kiss, and Cassio presses his forehead to mine. One hand holds me close as the other finds my hand on his cheek, and he pulls it between us, intertwining our fingers so our palms kiss might kiss instead.

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