45. Leandro
“ G reen isn't usually your color,” I comment lightly.
“It's for Lio. He's my friend, and I want to show my support.”
“Does that mean you don't need me anymore? Since you're all buddy-buddy with Lio now?”
“Don't be stupid. I need you both. You're my best friend, and Lio is my stabby soulmate.”
I sigh, which makes Roman laugh. If only it were that easy…
It's not that I don't like Roman, he is just…a lot. Sometimes too much.
Before I can respond, Boston jumps up from the bed and paces over to the large window on the other side of the room. She growls, her hackles raising.
“What the hell…” I mutter. “Boston, to me.”
She whines and looks at me, before turning back to the window. Using a short, sharp whistle, I try to call her again.
The fire alarm going off overhead, paired with Boston being on high-alert, has Roman and I looking at each other wide-eyed, before jumping into action.
Roman grabs both our phones while I transfer over to my chair. “Tablet, too,” I snap.
Roman makes his way to my desk—which is under the window—or tries to. Boston lets out a sharp bark, and moves to block Roman from getting near the window.
“Stand down,” I order, but as soon as the words leave my mouth, the window explodes.
“Fuck!”
More alarms start to ring out as something else is tossed into my room.
Roman races to the door, but doesn't make it before the incendiary device explodes.
Throwing myself onto the ground, I ignore the sharp pain traveling through my chest, and the pressure in my lower back can't be good, but fuck if I can care about that right now.
Boston crawls over to lay on top of me, her training and instincts kicking in.
“Roman!”
“Fine,” he calls back. “You?”
“Fucking hell, Boston. Get off my lungs.” I try to wiggle out from under her, and she somehow manages to get heavier. Fucking dog.
“We need to move,” Roman says.
“No shit.”
I can hear him moving around, but don't dare move in case I piss off the ninety-pound, overprotective German Shepherd that's currently crushing my insides.
“Boston, stand by,” Roman orders with a click of his fingers.
She whines but he clicks again, and slowly, she climbs off me. Roman reaches down and helps me off the floor. Gritting my teeth, I try not to flinch as he touches me. Normally, I don't mind it when it's Roman’s hands on me, but the seriousness of the situation has my nerves shot to hell.
When I'm back in my chair, I can see that Roman is bleeding from gashes on his cheek, arm, and side.
“You're not okay.”
He coughs and rolls his eyes. “I'm fine enough to get us both out of here. Or do you want to wait until they send more than a fucking smoke bomb through the window?”
Before I can respond, the door to my bedroom flies open and Tennant rushes in. “Are you hurt?”
“Just my pride,” Roman says.
“And his side. Think some shrapnel got him.”
Tennant opens his mouth to respond, but the whole house shakes and Boston starts barking again, turning her attention back to the window.
“I need to carry you,” Tennant says. “We need to get out of here, fast.”
I narrow my eyes but don't argue, knowing in this instance I can be a liability. Nodding my head once, I call Boston's attention to me, hoping she trusts Tennant enough that, even in this high stress situation, she doesn't try to eat him.
Boston growls when Tennant steps forward, but doesn't make a move, so I call that a win. He scoops me up and I close my eyes, trying to block out the feeling of someone touching me.
“Grab my chair,” I tell Roman.
“If we have to abandon it…”
“I know,” I snap, close to losing what little control I have left as Tennant strides out of the room. “But I refuse to not try.”
The four of us hurry through the halls, and it's weird to hear and see nothing except smoke and the distant sound of more explosives being thrown at the house.
“What's going on, Ten?” Roman asks.
“I don't know. We're under attack, but who's responsible is a mystery, as they seem to prefer setting us on fire over anything.”
Tennant’s hands tighten a little on me, his only sign of anger at the situation, as his voice stays level. “There was a delay in the alarms, someone must have fucked with them. And they managed to take the outside guards out without being discovered.”
The house shakes again as we get to the stairs and Tennant stumbles, almost dropping me.
“Fuck!” He adjusts his grip on me.
Boston whines and I drop a hand down to her, letting her press her nose to my fingers and check that I'm okay.
Tennant takes the stairs two at a time, forcing me to cling to him as I get jostled around.
We barely make it to the foyer when whatever they've been throwing at the house is lobbed at it again. This time a window at the front of the house breaks. The sound can be barely heard over the whoosh of flames, the shaking of the house, and the sound of Roman screaming.
I watch as the chandelier hanging above the foyer falls almost directly on top of Roman.
“Cristian!” Tennant calls out as he races to Roman’s side. “Fuck!” he exclaims as he stands over Roman.
Tennant sets me on the ground, before he rights and unfolds my chair from where Roman dropped it. I quickly work on scooting my body across the marbled floor, so I can transfer to the wheelchair.
Cristian races into the house, along with whatever guards I'm assuming are not trying to take out the assholes throwing bombs at us.
Without speaking, Tennant and Cristian work on trying to extract Roman from underneath the chandelier.
“Boston, help.” I call her to me with the command and sharp whistle.
She whines at being pulled away from her favorite person, but after everything that's happened tonight, her training and instincts have her on high-alert. She makes her way to my side and, reluctantly, follows me out of the house.
“What happened?” Hollis asks as soon as I make my way down the ramp.
“Roman’s hurt.” I stare at my mentor, watching with morbid curiosity as pain flashes in his dark eyes.
He tries to move forward, but stops to look over my shoulder, and I twist around enough to watch as Cristian carries his bloody son out of the burning house.
Hollis makes a distressed cry and races up to meet the mafia Boss.
They hurry Roman down the steps, and as I watch his prone form be moved around, some strange, dark part of me pangs.
Before, the hunt for our enemies was amusing. Now…now, it's personal for me. They’ve hurt what is mine. And they better hope someone else catches them before I do…
To be continued…