Chapter 19 #2
I immediately glare at him. The bastard has the decency not to laugh. Barely.
Even with half his face hidden behind the mask, I can see it anyway. The unmistakable amusement lingering in his eyes, the faint crinkling at their corners, the infuriating look of someone enjoying my reaction far more than he should.
He's smiling. Through his eyes.
Roisin looks between us. Then her eyes slowly widen. "Oh my God. You did it on purpose."
I decide not to answer. My silence is apparently answer enough.
"You absolutely did it on purpose."
"I had my reasons."
"You shot your fiancé."
"He survived."
"That's not the point."
Nico looks entirely too entertained by the conversation. The man has a bullet scar because of me and somehow he's enjoying this.
Then Roisin shakes her head. "No. Forget that. Forget all of it. You spent an entire day pretending you didn't know how to use a rifle."
I shrug. "Technically, I never said that."
Her jaw drops. Nico actually laughs. The sound lasts less than a second. Because another burst of gunfire erupts from the foyer below.
The reality of the situation crashes back into place immediately. The laughter disappears. The amusement disappears. Everything disappears except survival.
Nico peeks around the pillar. His eyes harden. "Three armed men moving toward the east staircase."
I move beside him. "I see them."
The attackers appear seconds later. The first man rounds the corner with his rifle already raised. The second follows immediately behind him while the third begins shouting something in Italian.
They never get the chance to finish. Nico fires first. The crack of his pistol echoes through the corridor. The lead attacker drops.
I fire almost simultaneously. The second man falls backward. The third barely manages to react before another shot catches him in the chest and sends him crashing into the wall.
The exchange lasts only a few seconds. But it is enough. The moment the bodies hit the floor, the corridor erupts into fresh chaos.
Guests scream. Security teams rush past. Someone shouts for medical assistance. Somewhere below us, glass shatters loudly enough to shake the walls. The estate no longer resembles a celebration. It resembles a war zone.
Rich men who spent the evening discussing politics and billion-dollar deals are now hiding behind furniture. Women wearing diamonds worth more than some people’s houses are crouched on marble floors trying not to get shot.
The illusion of power has vanished. Fear has made everyone equal.
"Move." Nico says.
The three of us leave cover immediately.
We move quickly, staying close to the walls while security teams flood the lower levels. More attackers appear in the distance. More shots are exchanged. Every hallway seems to contain another fight.
As we move through the corridor, I nearly trip when the ridiculous amount of fabric gathered around my legs catches against my ankle.
I recover quickly and keep moving, but only a few steps later the gown tangles around me again, forcing me to kick free of the layers before I lose my balance a second time.
By the third near-disaster in less than thirty seconds, my patience is hanging by a thread.
"Oh, for fuck's sake." I grab a fistful of fabric and glare down at it. "This dress is actively trying to get me killed."
Nico glances down.
I gesture angrily toward the ridiculous amount of material wrapped around my legs. "I should have worn something shorter."
"Obviously."
I glare at him. "You're being incredibly helpful."
Without warning, he crouches.
"What are you doing?"
"Fixing the problem."
Before I can stop him, his hands close around the lower layers of the gown. Then he tears it. The sound is shockingly loud. The fabric rips apart beneath his grip. Several layers of emerald silk collapse onto the floor.
Cold air brushes against my legs. For a moment I simply stare at the remains of what used to be a very expensive dress.
Then I slowly look up. "You owe me a new one."
"No."
"You destroyed it."
"It was ugly."
My jaw drops. "It was not ugly."
"It looked like a decorative curtain."
Roisin snorts. Actually snorts.
I turn toward her. "You are not helping either."
"I'm sorry."
She isn't sorry at all. But for the first time since Fergus's room, she almost looks normal again. Then another explosion rattles the estate hard enough to shake the walls.
A burst of gunfire suddenly erupts from the corridor ahead, bullets tearing through the wood-paneled walls and showering the hallway with splinters. Before I can fully process what is happening, Nico grabs my arm and drags both Roisin and me sideways behind a thick stone pillar.
The impact knocks the breath from my lungs. "What the hell…"
"Company." Nico mutters.
Peering around the edge of the pillar, I immediately spot two armed men moving down the corridor toward us. Neither belongs to Keegan security.
One of them raises his rifle. The other spots our position. The exchange begins instantly.
The sharp crack of Nico's pistol echoes through the hallway, dropping the first attacker before he can fire another shot. The second man throws himself behind cover, swearing loudly as bullets chip pieces of stone from the wall above our heads.
I lean out just long enough to squeeze off a shot. The bullet catches the attacker in the shoulder and he stumbles.
Then another man appears from a side corridor farther down the hall. My stomach drops.
His rifle is already aimed directly at Nico.
"Lucien!" He turns.
The attacker squeezes the trigger. At the exact same moment, so do I. For one horrifying fraction of a second, my bullet appears to be heading straight for Nico's head.
The shot passes so close to him that I see his eyes widen. Then the man behind him collapses.
Nico slowly turns toward me.
"I was aiming at the man behind you."
"I know you’re trying to kill me, woman."
"Oh, shut up."
Before either of us can say anything else, another barrage of gunfire erupts from the foyer below, sharp enough to shake us back into reality.
"Keep moving." Nico orders.
The deeper we push into the mansion, the worse the situation becomes. As we reach the upper landing overlooking the grand foyer, several more gunmen suddenly emerge from below.
Nico immediately shifts position beside me. Then behind me. Until our backs touch.
"I'll take the right side." He says.
"I've got the left."
The attackers open fire. We answer. The foyer explodes into motion. Every time I shift position, Nico adjusts instinctively. Every time he moves, I compensate without thinking. There are no instructions, no hesitation, and no need to communicate beyond the occasional warning shouted over gunfire.
At one point I duck beneath a spray of bullets and fire over my shoulder without looking. A second later I hear a body hit the floor.