Chapter Sixteen #2
“You’re a photographer, aren’t you?” Rhys asks.
I smile as I click away. “It’s a hobby. I like to—”
Screams suddenly erupt nearby.
I turn, the crowd shoving me.
Then I stumble. My heel catches on the cobblestones.
A loud roar quakes through the square, and I finally see them.
Two motorcyclists dressed in all black barrel toward us. The first one snatches my camera from my hands before I can react.
No! My Leica from Mia. “Stop! Give it back!”
Without thinking, I chase after the man. They can take anything—my purse, my money—but they can’t take the only thing Mia left me.
The second motorcyclist brushes past me and beelines toward Bree. She stands alone, her face blanching, clearly petrified.
Horror sweeps through me when he grabs a fistful of her hair and drags her onto his bike.
“Let her go!” I hurry toward them, instinct driving me.
The motorcyclist stops in the middle of the road. He struggles with Bree, who’s fighting back.
Pinning her to his lap, he fishes out something from inside his jacket. The metallic flash of the barrel stops me in my tracks.
A gun pointed straight at me.
I freeze as time stalls into fragments.
A booming sound ricochets. Followed by shrill screeches. The smell of gunpowder and the flash of fire.
I’m going to die.
Someone plows into me from the side, knocking me to the ground.
Pain explodes across my back, knocking the air out of my lungs. Dots appear in my vision.
“You okay?” A rough voice currently promises murder.
A dark silhouette appears above me. Thundering eyes glint with unholy light. Lips peeled back in a snarl.
Rex sweeps his hand down my body as if checking for wounds.
“Get B-Bree,” I whisper. “I’m fine.”
His eyes widen, like he’s shocked at my mention of her.
A vein pulses in his temple. He nods.
Rex hauls himself off me and sprints toward the motorcyclist. The asshole has Bree immobile on his lap. He revs his engine, clearly seconds away from fleeing.
But he’s not fast enough.
Rex reaches him before I can blink and tackles him to the ground. Bree scurries away, and Rhys and other locals form a protective circle around her.
I barely notice.
Because my attention is stolen by the vicious man pinning the motorcyclist under him. The men grapple for the gun, shots firing into the air. People scream and dive for cover.
“Who sent you?” Rex roars.
He twists the man’s wrist. The gun clatters to the ground. Then he follows with a flurry of hits.
Jabs to the abdomen. Hooks to the face.
The heavy smacking sounds turning wet.
Then I notice the telltale crimson coating his hands.
“Did someone send you?”
Blood splatters onto his white shirt, soaking it in a matter of seconds. It streaks across his cheeks and eyebrows, which frame the most unhinged eyes.
His fists pummel the man, each strike harder than the last.
The man’s barely moving as blood pools on the ground.
Rex is killing him. And he doesn’t realize it.
This man—my friends’ brother, my patient, the person disrupting my dreams—isn’t fully here.
I scramble toward them, my legs finally working. The first motorcyclist swings back for his partner. He aims a gun at the duo on the ground.
“Rex! Watch out!” I scream.
The man cocks the trigger, fires off a round, then speeds away.
The two men are motionless when I reach their side.
My heart batters against my rib cage, my blood freezing in my veins. No. Please. Please. My ears ring as images flash into my mind—Mia, all those years ago, still and silent on her bed.
I can’t lose anyone anymore.
A sob rips out of my throat, my hands trembling as I grab the shoulders of the infuriating man who has burrowed inside my heart without me noticing.
“Rex? Rex! Oh my God, please.” I search his body for a bullet hole.
Where’s the damn wound? Why isn’t he moving?
Seconds or an eternity later, I hear him groan.
His eyes flicker open. Those beautiful slate-gray eyes.
Crushing, startling relief.
I collapse on top of him, tears pouring down my face. “You’re okay. Oh my God, you’re okay.”
I barely notice the crowds. The sirens. The camera flashes. The voices—Rhys or Bree or someone else—asking if I’m all right.
I can only focus on the warmth of the man beneath me. The rapid movements of his chest. The hammering of his heart against my ear. The reassuring scent of amber and bergamot tinged with salt.
“Olive. What did I tell you in the cave? Don’t you dare throw yourself in harm’s way again.”
His beautiful deep voice, as fine as the whiskey he likes to drink.
I’m not even mad he’s calling me by Mia’s nickname.
But then his words register in my mind. He’s pissed at me when he almost got killed?
My vision still blurry, I fist his shirt and get in his face. “W-Why would you do that? Risk your life? Why would you do something so stupid? Do you know how scared I was?”
Those crystalline eyes snare mine. The bloodlust is gone, and in its place is an aching vulnerability.
With trembling fingers, I wipe off the blood splatter marring his handsome face. His lips part, the softest hiss escaping.
He heaves out a ragged exhale and swallows.
“He hurt you. I’ll kill anyone who hurts you.”