36. Zira #2
Pain explodes through my mouth as my teeth clack together and catch the edge of my tongue.
Disoriented, his next punch sends me down to the floor, and I land with a cry, but there’s no time to gather myself because then Harris is on me.
His bodyweight lands heavily on my waist and his fist collides with my face once more, sending my head snapping to the side with a spray of blood and saliva.
Tears burst into my eyes, and I reach for him after abandoning the rifle, scrambling to grab his wrist or his hand or anything to save me from the onslaught of blows.
It’s useless. He’s far stronger and his anger fuels blow after blow.
His knuckles cut into my brow bone on the next swing, and I manage to grab his arm and tear my nails down his forearm, resulting in a yell of pain that leads to a backhand across my mouth.
Every part of my face throbs hot and pained and I gasp, only to choke because both his fists seal around my throat and all air vanishes from my lungs.
My eyes fly open in alarm and I grip both his wrists, fighting with all my strength to pry his grip from my throat. My legs kick back and forth, I dig my heels into the floor and wrestle to lift my hips and dislodge him, but nothing works.
I can’t breathe!
Tighter and tighter he squeezes until he drags me up by the throat until we’re forehead to forehead. A strained squeak makes it past my lips as Harris laughs in my face.
“Close your eyes, bitch,” he snarls. “Give in. And you might wanna stay there because when you wake up, I’m gonna fuck you with everything I can get my hands on. Y’know, maybe I’ll take you with me. I always wanted something to keep my dick—”
A deafening crash splits the sky as the ceiling above suddenly explodes with a loud rumbling of thunder, and Harris flinches so hard that he loses his grip on me.
I gasp and choke, my throat burning and my heart racing like a frantic rabbit.
No sooner has that roar of thunder ended than Harris is no longer on top of me.
I roll to the side, coughing harshly and gasping through the blood trickling out of my mouth. Every part of me aches and throbs, my tongue on fire where my teeth severed flesh, and my throat burns with each ragged breath I drag in.
Where’s Harris? Where is he?
Around me, splintering wood and plaster rain down from above and a repeated dull thudding reaches my ears. Finally daring to look around after catching my breath, the cause of the destruction becomes visible.
Bradley.
He’s on top of Harris and punching his face into a bloody pulp.
Each dull thud is fist colliding with face while he pins Harris by the throat.
Every collision makes the floor creak, every splatter of blood isn’t enough, and Harris’s weak attempts to fight back are meaningless against a man as strong and well-built as Bradley.
I blink and Valentina leaps down from the hole in the ceiling, further adding to my dazed confusion about where the hell they came from, but it doesn’t matter.
Not really.
Bradley’s here.
He’s here with me and that’s all that matters.
Trying to speak burns and results in a rough, harsh coughing fit that stops Bradley’s next swing. He looks up at me, his eyes completely dark and his face twisted in rage, but that rage melts away in a blink when we lock eyes.
Hot tears sting behind my eyes and I gasp.
Suddenly, Bradley’s on his feet and he sweeps toward me.
The last glimpse I get of Harris is Valentina standing over him and nudging his trembling, choking form with the heel of her shoe because Bradley suddenly sweeps me up into his arms and nothing else matters.
“Are you okay?” Worry thickly laces his tone, and he balances me in one arm as if I weigh nothing and cups my beaten face with his hand. “Oh, God.”
“I-I’m sorry,” I choke out. “I-I had the gun b-but I couldn’t do it! I couldn’t.” Every word is a rasp and I dissolve into a coughing fit.
Bradley cuddles me to his chest and hushes me, a deeply soothing sound that rumbles through his chest. “Don’t,” he says as he begins to walk. “Don’t ever apologize for not taking a life.”
I glimpse Cassian running past in the hallway, and suddenly, we’re outside with a cool breeze, tugging at my clothes and stinging my cheeks.
“I should have been able to, I should have, I should have!” Tears flood down my cheeks, stinging the fresh bruises and split skin from the force of Harris’s blows, and once I start, I can’t stop.
The pain of everything surges up like a wave, of everything Harris put me through to struggling with Peter, the loss of him, the fear of everything else. It rises and chokes me.
Bradley makes it to a waiting car and sits half-inside, half-outside and holds me tightly. Through every rough gasp, every choke, every sob and snotty gasp, he doesn’t let me go. Both arms embrace me, and he continuously kisses the top of my head without a hint or word of complaint.
I don’t know how long I sit in his lap and cry. When I start to calm, he takes tissues from somewhere and gently dries my tears while very carefully dabbing around cuts and split skin, especially at my brow.
“I should have been able to kill him,” I choke out thickly while my chest spasms and forces a deep breath. “I shot you. I had more cause to shoot him.”
“It’s different,” Bradley says softly. “Shooting me was to save someone. Killing for revenge is very different.”
“He caused s-so much shit and I…” I shake my head. It didn’t matter that the safety was on. I still should have pulled the trigger or hit him over the head or done something to make him suffer.
“Zira, it’s over,” Bradley murmurs. “You don’t need to beat yourself up. We have him and he will suffer, I promise you that. I’m so proud of you.”
Very delicately, he cups my face and tilts my head up until we’re looking into each other’s eyes.
“Proud?” I ask weakly.
“Yes. You held your own. I’m a little pissed you went in there without warning and I was scared for you, but thanks to your stalling, we found you. The way sound carries in there was confusing so we thought you were upstairs for a while.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner.”
“No.” I press my hands to his chest and blink, my lashes damp against my cheek. “I-I’m glad you came. I’m so glad.” I sag forward, and he embraces me once more.
Is it really over?
No more Harris? No more Mafia? No more people eager for my head? Presumably, they will interrogate Harris, and like the cockroach he is, he’ll give up the location of the rest of the diamonds to save himself.
But then what? I can’t ask Bradley to kill him as much as I hope he will die. Will they arrest him and send him to prison?
It’s all a muddle.
“Need to get you looked at,” Bradley says. “I’ll call ahead for the medics. Are you able to breathe okay?”
I nod slowly and lift my head. “Why… Why did you do this?”
His brows knit together. “Do what?”
“Why did you focus so hard on helping me? Surely… surely, all of this could have been cleared up much faster if you just handed me over in the beginning. Why did you care about all of this so much? Why did you really help me or even agree to let me come here?”
Bradley’s expression softens somewhat and his eyes dart between both of mine and when he speaks, his voice is so soft that it’s like a whisper directly to my soul. “Do you really not know?”
I shake my head. “No,” I say weakly. “I don’t.” But as those words leave me, all Bradley does is kiss my forehead, and I’m struck with a sudden spark in my aching chest, blooming from the chaos of pain left behind.
Is there a chance he feels for me what I feel for him?
Could I be that lucky?
“It’s because I love you,” he says, and my world falls quiet.