CHAPTER 25 #2
"They're going to see us," I panicked, grabbing huge handfuls of cold mud and wet, dead leaves, packing them directly over Angelo’s chest and neck to try and mask his heat signature. "Need to hide. Too bright."
My eyes darted frantically across the base of the limestone cliff.
Twenty yards to our left, behind a dense, thorny screen of wild oleander, the helicopter's spotlight caught a fleeting glint of wet stone.
A narrow, jagged fissure. A cave. It looked shallow, but it was deep enough to break a direct thermal line of sight.
"There," I choked out, grabbing the thick nylon collar of his tactical vest. "Just a little further. I’ve got you."
I locked my fingers into the cordura webbing, leaned my entire body weight back, and pulled.
He didn't budge. I gritted my teeth, planted my boots into the mud, and heaved with everything I had.
His heavy boots dragged through the dirt, carving two deep, parallel furrows.
My biceps burned like fire, the muscles screaming in protest. My breath tore out of my throat in jagged, burning sobs.
I was a hundred and twenty pounds trying to drag two hundred and ten pounds of dead weight through an obstacle course.
My boots hit a patch of mossy rock, completely losing traction.
I slipped and crashed hard onto my bruised knees, but my hands stayed locked in a death grip on his vest.
"Move, damn you!" I grunted, scrambling back up and pulling again. "Almost there."
The helicopter spotlight swept the ground fifty yards behind us.
The blinding white beam was literally chasing us through the brush.
Shouts from the ground team echoed loudly from the south path.
I gave one final, desperate heave. My feet finally found solid purchase on a shelf of limestone at the base of the cliff.
I dragged him straight through the thicket of thorns.
The sharp branches whipped back, clawing violently at my face and arms. A thick thorn caught my left eyelid, slicing the skin.
I blinked away the hot sting of blood, refusing to stop my momentum.
"One more. Please. Now!"
I heaved him over the rocky lip of the cave entrance, and we both tumbled backward into the suffocating darkness just as the white spotlight washed over the brush outside.
The beam illuminated the crushed oleander I’d just crawled through, lingering for a terrifying three seconds before sweeping away.
The jagged limestone overhang cast a perfect, impenetrable shadow over us.
I lay on my back, my chest heaving, my lungs burning for oxygen. I held my breath, listening as the light flickered wildly through the leaves above.
I couldn't rest. The blood trail. I crawled back to the entrance on all fours, my hands and knees scraping against the rough stone.
I frantically scooped heavy handfuls of loose dirt and dried leaves, tossing them over the dark, shiny smears of blood staining the rocks just outside the entrance.
I grabbed the torn hem of my ruined silk dress and scrubbed aggressively at a particularly large, bright red puddle pooling on a flat stone.
My hands were entirely caked in a vile mixture of dirt and his lifeblood.
"Hide it," I muttered to myself, scrubbing harder. "Cover it up. Faster."
Satisfied that the glaring evidence was masked, I reached out and yanked the thorny oleander branches back into place, weaving the stems together to form a natural, chaotic screen over the fissure.
The cave was sealed. I retreated further into the cramped, claustrophobic back of the shallow tunnel, grabbing Angelo’s heavy boots and pulling his legs deeper into the pitch black until we were completely swallowed by the shadows.
I kicked a sharp, loose stone out of the way so his head wouldn't rest on it.
"Stay dark. Stay quiet," I whispered to the empty air. "Now we wait."
It was totally blind inside. I navigated entirely by feel, my hands crawling over the filthy stone floor until I hit the rough cordura of his vest. I traced the rigid lines of his chest, my fingers trembling uncontrollably until they plunged into the wet, sticky heat of his shoulder.
He was still oozing. I accidentally poked my index finger directly into the depth of the bullet hole, and Angelo’s massive body violently twitched beneath me, though he remained completely unconscious.
"Where are you?" I mumbled, adjusting my position. "Found you. Stay warm."
I swung my leg over and straddled his hips in the darkness.
I laced my bloody fingers together, placed the heels of my hands directly over the torn silk packed into his wound, and locked my elbows straight.
I used my entire upper body weight to apply maximum downward pressure.
I leaned forward, resting my forehead solidly against his chest, listening to the agonizing, sluggish struggle of his heart. I was soaked in him.
"Live for me," I ordered the darkness, my voice a harsh, demanding whisper. "Don't leave me with them. Breathe."
A sharp beam of light sliced straight through the oleander thorns, a thin white blade cutting into the absolute darkness of the cave.
I froze. My heart hammered so violently against Angelo's ribcage I thought the sound would echo.
The heavy crunch of gravel stopped just inches from the hidden entrance.
"They aren't here," a man's voice muttered, tired and laced with irritation. "Check the lower ridge."
"Move out," a second voice replied. The smell of cheap cologne and sweat drifted through the leaves.
I bit down on my lower lip, biting through the skin until the metallic taste flooded my tongue, forcing myself to remain absolutely silent. The flashlight beam danced across the floor two feet from my boots before snapping off. The heavy footsteps slowly faded away into the brush.
The helicopter's deafening thrum drifted further down the canyon, fading into a distant, insect-like drone.
I slumped forward, all the adrenaline instantly evaporating from my muscles.
My face buried deep into the crook of Angelo's sweat-drenched neck.
I let out a single, jagged sob that tore out of my throat, my entire body shaking against his chest.
"They're gone," I breathed against his skin, the reality of the cold, damp stone settling into my bones. "We're still here. Angelo, we're still here."
I reached down to his tactical belt, my fingers sliding over the familiar nylon pouches until I found the hard plastic sheath.
I drew his tactical knife. I gripped the hilt tightly, the cold, heavy metal grounding the chaotic spiral in my head.
I ran my blood-caked thumb over the etched Ferraro crest on the handle.
I wasn't going back to that house. I wasn't the Silvestri princess anymore.
That girl died the second I dragged him into this hole.
"I’m not going back," I said, staring blankly into the pitch-black void of the cave. "We're ghosts now. Sleep, Angelo. I'll watch the dark."
I didn't feel anything poetic about it. Just the cold edge of the knife in my hand, the sharp smell of bat guano, and the sticky friction of dried blood pulling at my skin every time I moved.
TO BE CONTINUED…
NEXT BOOK: The Fatal Sin.
FIORELLA
Somewhere along the way, I stopped being afraid of him.
That should have been the warning.
There’s nothing soft about what we’ve become. No illusion left. No pretending this is anything but survival sharpened into something dangerous.
He doesn’t ask for trust.He takes space.He takes control.And somehow, I stopped resisting it.
I know what he is. I’ve seen what he does when someone crosses the line he’s drawn around me.
I should run from that.
Instead, I stand inside it.
Because when the world turned against me…he didn’t hesitate.
And I hate how much that matters.
ANGELO
She stayed.
That’s the part I can’t undo.
She saw everything. The blood, the decisions, the way I handle problems—and she didn’t leave. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t pretend I was anything else.
Now she moves like she understands me.
And that’s worse than fear.
Because fear I can control. Fear I can use.This? This is something else.
Now when someone looks at her, I notice.When they get too close, I act.When they think they can take her from me—
I don’t think. I end it.
She’s not leverage anymore.Not a mistake.Not temporary.
She’s the only thing in this world I didn’t plan for.
And I don’t share what’s mine.