Chapter 23 Persephone #2
I dart my gaze around the small back hallway I’m standing in.
Other than the two bathrooms, there’s a third doorway…
. and a door labeled SORTIE in bold red letters.
I hurry to the door, pushing the bar across the middle.
But it doesn’t open. I try desperately to push against it several times before my brain catches up with reality. The door is stuck, somehow.
I flatten my back against the door. My purse hits the door with a thud and its heaviness reminds me of what I brought for protection.
A sleek black handgun.
I reach into the purse and wrap my hands around the grip of the gun. Shaking, pulse pounding a million miles an hour, I point the gun at the doorway leading into the store.
A second later, the man’s blond head peeks in the back hallway. I grimace at him and point the gun at his face, stepping sideways. His eyes widen as he takes me in.
“Go,” I hiss. “Just leave.”
A calculating look crosses his face. “I cannot do that, mademoiselle. You must come with me.”
“Like hell.” I can feel the sheen of sweat as it breaks out across my brow. Glaring at the man, I think about firing a warning shot into the wall. My teeth chatter as I grip the gun harder. “That man tried to kill me. Do you understand? I’m not going to go anywhere with either of you.”
“Mademoiselle—” he says. “Be reasonable…”
At that very moment, the door behind my back is yanked open. My eyes widen as I lose my footing. I am grabbed around the waist by strong, unseen arms. The blond man edges out from behind the wall, approaching with a determined look on his face.
A sharp scream escapes my lips. The arms that grip me pull tighter, wrapping around my body. I can feel something sharp and cold pressing in against my ribs.
My brain going into overdrive, naming the cold object a knife. I panic, flailing. The gun goes off in my hands, shooting the blond man in the chest.
The man behind me grunts and jabs me in the ribs with his knife. Pain shoots through my entire body but I’m too wrapped up in breaking the man’s hold to focus on it. I make my body as pointy as possible, driving my elbows back into the man’s solid core with swift force.
He makes a soft noise of pain and for just the barest second, his hands relax. I stomp my high heeled feet down onto his booted ones as I twist away from him.
“Pute,” he growls. He tries to hold me, his knife slicing into my ribs and then my right wrist as I kick and punch my way to freedom.
I turn around, barely recognizing him as a person before I lift my gun and shoot him twice in the stomach. The gunshots ring out loud in the alley. He drops to the ground, squealing like a pig and writhing in pain.
For a second, my brain refuses to work.
I stare at him, horrified, as he slumps and gurgles.
The sound of the gunfire rings in my ears. My heart pounds.
I have to get out of here, I think. The gunshots will call the world down upon me.
I clutch at the neckline of my sweater. God gave me an opening, I’m pretty damned sure. I lick my lips, backing up, and consider my options. I look both ways down the alley.
If I run away right now, Constantine or his men might see me. They will give chase. And I’m not stupid enough to think that I can just escape capture a second time.
I bring my hand to my ribs, tears filling my eyes. I can’t look down. I am badly injured, but I think that not knowing the extent of my injuries right now is somehow saving me.
Still, I can’t go far without people following.
I push my cheek out with my tongue and think of the restroom I left not long ago. The door to the back hallway is still ajar. I head over to it, using my toe to nudge it open.
The man I shot is nowhere to be seen. There are several bloody handprints on the wall, where he got up and exited through the store.
Blood rushes through my temples, making it hard to think. In my limited capacity, I step into the building once more and find my way to the bathroom. It’s my safest bet, for the moment at least.
I slink backward, opening and closing the door quietly. Then I lock the deadbolt.
As I pull out my phone, I realize just how badly I’m shaking. Going to the contacts, I select the only number saved in my phone.
I press dial, clenching my eyes closed and whispering a prayer.
One ring.
Two rings.
Three rings.
“Come on… come on…”
Hades picks up with a grumble. “This had better be fucking important, Persephone.”
“Hades?” I whisper. “I’m in Monaco City… and I need your help… I just saw Constantine. He’s… he’s here. And I’ve been stabbed.”
The last few words are lost, swallowed by my tears. I try not to panic or get hysterical, but it’s almost impossible.
Constantine almost killed me once. I know too much, and I can testify that he’s a bad, bad man.
If he finds me, I am absolutely certain that he is going to finish the job.
“Fuck,” Hades curses. There is a pause. “Where are ye?”
I take a deep breath, trying not to cry. “Parapharmacie édouard. I’ve locked myself in the bathroom.”
There’s a silence on the line. For a second, I think he’s considering whether I’m worth the trouble of saving or not. Big, fat tears leak from my eyes.
“Please, Hades,” I beg. “Please, come get me.”
Another second. Then he grates an answer.
“Stay put. I’ll be there shortly. Do not open that fucking door for anybody but me.”
He disconnects the line before I can say another word. It takes a few seconds of gaping at my phone before I can put it away. I move away from the door, one eye on the tiny window, more afraid than I can ever recall being.
And my vision starts fading in and out. Touching my wound again, I look at my hand. It’s stained dark red with my own wet blood.
Shit.
I sit down in the middle of the bathroom floor, feeling woozy, and wait for my white knight to arrive.