Chapter 30 Zarina
ZARINA
Ishove and shove and shove the knife into Danny’s throat until he’s forced to his feet. Blood pours over the hilt, down my wrist. His brown eyes are wide, that vicious grin replaced by a wide-open jaw and gurgling air. My grip stays strong as I maneuver him between myself and Marcus.
“Drop the gun.” Pat’s voice is too calm for this moment.
Marcus’s wide eyes flick between me, Danny—at whom he’s aiming his gun—and Pat aiming their gun at him. Savage delight rips up my spine at the surprise and rage and smallest tinge of fear on his face because of me. Because with one well-placed thrust, I’ve upended his precious power.
He keeps his gun on me, Danny between us. “At this range, the bullet will go through him and hit her.”
Danny’s weight grows heavier, and I struggle to hold him up. I keep myself still, my muscles locked, unwilling to let Marcus see how close I am to dropping my human shield. “Is this the hill you want to die on, Marcus?” I call.
“I have the power here,” Marcus growls.
I snort and revel in the fact that I can. “Do you also have an army on the other side of that door? Any of us dies, and you won’t make it out of this house alive.”
Gunfire rattles somewhere else in the house, as if to illustrate my point.
I don’t know what’s going or why. I don’t care.
Mother stands still behind Father, like a rabbit trying to avoid the attention of a flying predator.
Father’s breath is labored, but without wet sounds.
I adjust my free hand, Danny no longer holding it captive as his body loses blood. Soon, he’ll droop into death.
“Here’s how this is gonna go,” I parrot Marcus’s words back to him as I yank the knife out of Danny’s throat.
His chest falls onto my shoulder at the same time I pull his gun out of its holster and aim it under his arm at Marcus.
Danny gurgles. Blood seeps onto my robe, sticking to my skin beneath.
“Wedding’s off. You’re gonna take whoever you brought with you that’s still alive, and you’re gonna get the fuck out of my house.
Danny’s body will be returned to you, unmarred. ”
Except for the stab wound in his neck.
“Whether I stay or go, you’re all dead.” Marcus’s voice is full of quiet threat.
“By all means, stay and die with us. Because if I’m dying, you are, too.
That’s a promise.” I glare at him, at the gun he has trained on my forehead.
Marcus Accardi thought I was powerless, thought my family was worthless without its Cardinal status.
He thought he’d stride in here and take what little power we have left.
But he hasn’t learned the most important lesson yet. None of them have.
Power is in the wielding, not the taking.
Marcus growls in frustration. “Dad will come.”
“Before or after Pat shoots you?” I ask. The gunfire is slowing, and I hope to whatever god there is that our people are dispatching the Accardi scum crawling through our home.
“Get out, Marcus.”
I almost lose my grip on Danny when I wince in surprise.
Mother said that. Mother, whose pride and ego are so enormous, she’d rather sell me off to hide her mistakes than own up to them and allow us a chance to make them right.
Mother, who tried to help this man kidnap me and forcefully marry me. She’s telling him to leave.
She clears her throat, speaking again. “Get out and live.”
Marcus glares at each of us in turn, saving me for last. He stands at the barrel end of two guns, his only ally in this room dead at my hands and not enough men in the house to overtake it.
He has no choice. But he doesn’t move. He backed me into a corner, took all I had to lose, and created the shrew he couldn’t tame.
I will kill him, will drag myself to death’s doorstep, will sacrifice my place in this family and all my earthly possessions in order to be free of him. But he won’t do the same to have me. And we both know it.
His shoulders deflate. His hand lowers. And then, before he can holster his gun, the library door bursts open.
Andrea Tamayo stumbles into the room.
Marcus aims his gun at her, but I’m over this. I shoot. The bullet goes wide, like I intended, but Marcus ducks instinctually. Pat lunges forward and tackles him into the carpet. His gun skitters across the floor, unfired.
“Princess,” Tamayo breathes. Her hair is a mess, her suit sprayed red with blood, and she’s scanning me with so much concern, I almost fold right then and there.
She did the last thing I asked of her, and even when she obtained everything she used me for, she still came here, to the house of her personal villain. For me.
But I don’t need saving.
I ignore her, shoving Danny’s heavy, floppy body off me and to the floor with a resounding thud. My knife drips crimson in my hand. Marcus is cursing Pat to hell and back as they pin his arms behind his back, their knee shoved into his spine.
I feel Tamayo’s gaze on me as I check the chamber of Danny’s gun. “What’s the commotion?” I ask her.
“Gallos against Accardis,” Tamayo says.
“Odds?”
“Gallos, six-to-one.”
“Hear that, Marcus?” I stride across the room with the same assured gait that he used, the one that assumed ownership of the space and everything, everyone, in it. Only for me, it’s true. “Six-to-one. Would you like to play those odds?”
“Fuck you!” His cheek is smushed against the floor, his words muffled despite their vitriol.
“That won’t be happening.” I twirl my knife in one hand while I aim Danny’s gun at his head, standing out of reach. “In fact, if you’d like to leave here with any of your men, I suggest you follow my next instructions to the letter.”
He growls. Because that’s all he can do.
I smirk. “Pat will relieve you of your weapons while you stay still, and when they’re done, I will walk you out at gunpoint.
If one of your men attacks me or my family, you die.
If you attack me or my family, you die. If you insult me, I will stab you.
” I spin my knife again to illustrate just how comfortable it is in my hands.
“Whoever is alive may carry out whoever is injured. Your dead will be returned to you unmarred, like I said.”
Marcus Accardi, face as red as his father’s and squished against the carpet and trussed up like the pig he is in Pat’s grip, glares at me with the promise of violence. And the resignation of defeat.
“Do you understand?” I funnel as much condescension into my tone as I can physically muster.
He nods.
Pat immediately frisks him, yanking a gun out of his waistband. The gunfire in the house beyond has lessened, but crackles sporadically. I don’t look away from Marcus, watching his hands as Pat drags him to his feet.
“Mother, call the doctor,” I say. She doesn’t answer, but I hear her heels dart across the room. Father will likely be okay, barring any internal damage and only if we leave the knife in his gut until the doctor arrives.
Marcus stands with his hands held up in a facsimile of surrender. I aim my gun at his head, Pat already holding theirs at the base of his neck.
“Accompany us?” I offer Tamayo, refusing to look away from Marcus for even a millisecond.
“Darius,” Tamayo calls, “clear a path.”
“Got it,” Darius’s voice comes from the hallway.
Pat shoves Marcus forward, and he stumbles. I let him lead the way, keeping my gun trained on his head and my knife at his kidney. Tamayo follows behind me.
Her hand hovers at the small of my back, like she wants to touch me but is holding herself back.
Whether because of the ambiguity of our relationship or because she doesn’t want to distract me, I don’t know.
All I know is she could have stayed in the library with my parents and I would still be distracted by her presence.
“Hold fire!” Darius yells ahead.
It doesn’t do much. The barrage continues in short bursts, like everyone is hunkered down and only shooting when they catch a glimpse of their target.
“Tell them, Marcus.” I dig my knife harder into his suit jacket, the fabric giving way under the sharpened blade. “Tell them to stand down.”
He grits his teeth.
“Tell them you failed,” I taunt.
I watch his whole body clench, ready to lunge for my throat. But he holds himself back. Barely. And that micro-movement stretches my smirk into a wide, beaming grin.
“Accardis!” he yells. “Cessate il fuoco!”
The house is quiet again, save for the shuffle of feet and labored groans from injured bodies.
“Gallos, our guests are leaving,” I call.
We round the corner to stand at the top of the grand staircase in the foyer.
Darius stands on the second landing amongst shattered crystal from the chandelier, dirt spilled from a few of the potted plants, and a body folded into the wrong shape.
I let Pat, Darius, and Tamayo take in the rest, unwilling to allow more than a cursory distraction from Marcus at the end of my weapons.
We stand at the top of the stairs, blood and destruction surrounding us. Gallos and Accardis peek out from where they’ve taken cover. I stand beside Marcus, changing my smile to something more beatific than conniving.
“Marcus Accardi has agreed to leave peacefully with his men,” I speak loud and clear. “Accardis, gather your injured. Marcus and I will follow.”
No one moves. I cock my head and shove my gun forward until it’s pressed against Marcus’s cheek, indenting the skin.
Marcus snaps, “Fuckin’ move!”
His men scramble to obey—only a few are still able—each of them throwing me nasty looks, which only make me sneer. They support their injured comrades as they line up at the door, waiting for their prince to accompany them in their defeated retreat.
I keep my gun hard against Marcus’s cheek, my knife poised against his kidney, as he and I descend the stairs. He growls low in his throat, hating every moment of this while I could be purring with the relish warming my body from the inside out.
“I’ll be back.” Caustic words spill from his lips. “I’ll get what’s mine.”
“You just might,” I murmur as I halt on the final step. I drag my knife down his hip. “But the game has changed—there’s a whole new board now. And you and Alonso are not known for your… flexibility.”
And then I smack his ass with the flat of my blade as I shove him forward, off the steps. He slides on the tile, almost tipping heels over head, but catches himself at the last second with an angry huff.
He yanks at his suit jacket, buttoning it closed and pulling his cuffs out from under his sleeves.
I watch as he rolls his shoulders, striding for his men.
He must give them a specifically terrifying look, because they all jump into action, one pulling the door open to show a calm, winter wonderland outside.
Their SUVs are coated with a layer of packed snow after only an hour inside.
Cold wind sweeps inside my robe, but I don’t flinch. I keep my gun trained on Marcus’s head as his men file out of my house and into their cars. He stands in the doorway, studying the scene, my house, and finally me.
“I’ll be seeing you.” He smirks.
Two hours ago, those words might have sparked dread in me. But now, it only makes me want to laugh. So I do. I laugh with absolute fucking mirth, eyes scrunched and head thrown back. And Marcus’s face loses the little confidence it had gained.
I let a feral smile take over my lips. “God, I hope so.”