Page 124 of Forging Caine

Fiori stormed over to his son, backhanding him. “Shut up, you pathetic little worm!”

My goal had been to distract him, but all it seemed to have done was agitate him. Make him angrier. This did not bode well for me, let alone for Samantha.

I’m sorry, I mouthed to her.

Her eyes widened, flicked to the window behind the guards, and back to me. She widened them again.

Fiori snatched the phone from my hand. “Send it to me.”

Cristian responded, but I didn’t make out the words. I was too busy looking where she’d indicated. Movement caught my eye. A figure next to the stone table on the terrace. Another next to the door, reaching for the handle. They were here. How many were there?

Fiori strode the few steps until he stood in front of Samantha.

Bodyguard One grabbed me.Oh no!

“I have a gun pointed at your cousin’s fiancée’s head.” Fiori lifted the barrel, pressed it to Samantha’s forehead, and she closed her eyes. “Give me your word it’s mine, or I—”

The crack of a gunshot sounded from somewhere outside and the glass shattered behind Fiori. A spray of blood burst from his temple and he collapsed in a heap, his gun and phone clattering to the ground.

Samantha’s eyes snapped open, a splatter of red marring her face.

The guard’s grip on me weakened, confusion washing over the group, as everyone but Baptiste drew a weapon, searching for the source of the gunshot.

Cristian asked, “What’s happening?”

The door opened a sliver. A faint ping could barely be heard over the men’s voices as a metal canister rolled into the room. I dove for Samantha, tackling her in her chair, wrapping my arms around her head as we fell, just as a blinding light erupted in the room. It was all I could do to hold on to her while pulling my head down so my shoulders covered my ears from the screaming pressure of the flash-bang grenade.

The pain. Cazzo Madre, the pain.

Just hold on to her.

Gunfire.

Screams.

A boot connected with my side.

Even so, I held onto her with everything I had.

Another boot knocked the air out of me and rough hands threw me off of her. Distant voices, hard to hear over the ringing in my ears, yelled, “Hands behind your head!”

Other voices pierced the confusion. “Drop your weapons!” and “You’re under arrest!”

I blinked wildly, white flashes covering my vision. I could barely see, barely hear.

But I felt the zip ties going around my wrists again.

And finally saw Samantha’s chair being righted by someone in tactical gear.

Elliot’s SWAT team had arrived.

Just in time.

Chapter 44

Samantha

AntonioandIsaton metal chairs by one of the giant stone tables on the back terrace. We’d been sitting for an hour in the cool evening, waiting until they cleared us to leave. Our chairs were as close as we could get them to each other, and our hands remained locked together. We’d forgone separate blankets around us for a shared one after an EMT had cleaned the bl—cleaned my face.

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