blood.
Her tone grew even more quiet. “I can feel this, Arkady.”
I glanced at her face, and she ran her fingers over the new gashes without so much as a wince.
“Why? Why do this to yourself?” I asked again, more forcefully.
“I understand it and see it and control this pain!”
Fear still pumped through my system, crashing against an overwhelming urge to strangle some sense into her.
“I can control this.” She met my gaze with a fierce light to her eyes. “Not like everything else! That howling emptiness inside of me is worse than a few shallow scratches.”
Shallow scratches?
I growled low in my throat then realized I gripped her legs mercilessly hard.
Loosening my hold, I held a thick piece of gauze over the still oozing cuts.
“That void just goes on forever,” she whispered quietly.
“There has to be a better way, Lucia.”
“There is if you’d just let me go home.”
“Why? So you can go on harming yourself like it seems you’ve been doing for years?” And why do I care anyway?
“What damn difference does it make whether you’re the one hurting me or I am?” Her voice rose.
Her words kindled new rage in me, and I was about to tell her exactly what kind of difference I’d make when I heard the distinct squeal of tires outside.
Then Maksim bellowed up the stairs, “Arkady! Get your ass down here now!”
“Blyad,” I swore viciously, glaring at Lucia before hustling her off the bed and situating her in a corner of the room well away from any windows.
I pulled out my gun, chest heaving as I stood over her.
She cringed into the corner.
Stomping to the door, I gave one last warning. “Don’t you fucking move, and don’t you dare hurt yourself again.”
I hurtled downstairs where Maksim stood with a rifle raised and ready.
When he saw all the blood staining my shirt, he bit out, “Are you hurt?”
“Nyet.”
“Is Lucia?”
I didn’t get a chance to answer as a blast of gunfire crackled against the brick face of my house.
Maksim and I bolted out through the front door, joining the three soldiers guarding the home.
Across the road, two distinct Ferraris revved.
Ducking down, I popped off several shots. The side window of one of the cars shattered, blood erupting from the head of the man sat just inside.
Only one man down, more bullets screamed past us.
Fucking Sicilians.
This was unmistakably Sabato’s crew coming for some retribution.
Another round of fire whistled from our side, and bullets rained like hail into the ostentatious vehicles.
A second later, the cars roared into action. Tires spinning wildly on pavement, the Italian bastards zoomed away.
I took one more shot, blasting out a rear window with a satisfying spray of glass.
Once they disappeared from sight, I checked to make sure all my men were safe.
No one had been harmed.
Maksim’s jaw set hard, and he stared at me.
I didn’t feel like explaining the entire fucked up situation, not when I still had Lucia to deal with amid the sheer madness of the last two nights while she practically sat in a pool of her own blood.
Holstering my gun, I returned my brother’s measured stare. “You need to get to the mansion and make sure all are locked down and safe for the night. The soldiers will stay here.”
“That’s it?”
“Da.”
“What about this?” He reached behind me and yanked something off the back of the door, which was still wide open.
He waved a piece of paper in front of my face, and I snatched it from him.
Someone had hastily scrawled: Sabato wants the guns, the girl, and the money.
Apparently they’d found out that Lucia had mysteriously disappeared from her father’s possession and all their lucrative deals lay in my hands.
Perhaps I’d visibly reacted during the aborted exchange upon figuring out Lucia was to be bartered off to the old don. Unlikely, but not impossible. She had already gotten in my head and under my skin.
“The gun drop didn’t go exactly as planned.” I folded the note and placed it in my pocket.
One of Maksim’s eyebrows hiked up. “What about the nightclub?”
“Grigor is on top of it.”
His second eyebrow shot up to match the first.
“I’m certain he will inform Kirill,” I replied to his non-question. “Probably already has.”
In true Maksim fashion, all he did was grunt.
The fast retaliation and new demand were nothing less than I expected although I thought the Italians might’ve waited until tomorrow.
Didn’t matter. They were not chasing me out of my own home.
And they were not getting the girl.
This was one fight I could face head on, with