97. Chapter Ninety-Seven
Chapter Ninety-Seven
Mateo
I must have developed extrasensory perception because I swear I see the bullet leave Sofia’s gun. Time slows as a thin trail of smoke curls through the dark night air.
The deafening crack of the shot sends my fear into outer space.
“Mari!” I scream as I watch her body collide with Sofia’s.
They both stumble backward, the force knocking Sofia off balance. Her grip on the gun slips, and the weapon clatters onto the deck. My muscles react before my mind does. I lunge for it, but so does Davide.
He scrambles toward it, fingers stretching for the cold metal, but I kick his arm away with everything I’ve got. He curses, recoiling. I snatch up the gun, pivot, and without hesitation, put a bullet in his head. His body drops, lifeless. Fuck him!
I barely register the sound over the roar of the wind and waves. Damn, the storm has arrived.
My gaze snaps back to Mari and Sofia, both struggling to stay upright as the boat pitches beneath them. The wind howls, waves smashing against the hull. Mari grips the railing, chest heaving, while Sofia stumbles.
Steadying herself, Sofia sees her chance and makes a desperate lunge at Mari. I yell, ‘Code Red,’ hoping she remembers our self-defense training and that ‘Red’ means left.
Mari reacts instantly, dodging just as Sofia tries to shove her over the yacht’s edge. Her timing is perfect. Sofia, unable to stop, slams into the railing with full force. She overbalances and flips over the rail, hanging in the air just long enough for me to take a well-aimed shot.
Did I hit her? I can’t tell.
There’s no scream. Only the hollow silence of her absence before a loud splash comes from below.
But I have no time to contemplate Sofia’s fate.
Mari slumps to the deck.
No!
My heart hammers as I rush to her on unsteady legs.
I drop to my knees, carefully turning her over. Her chest rises and falls in sharp, uneven breaths, her eyes filled with unshed tears. Before I can say anything, she throws her arms around me, clinging to me like I’m the only thing keeping her grounded.
I hold her just as fiercely, my hands gripping her back, pressing her close.
Then I feel it.
Something warm and wet.
When I pull back, my breath catches. My shirt is soaked in blood.
I panic. My pulse pounds in my ears, drowning out the storm. I tighten my grip on her, my hands shaking.
“Mari, baby, where are you hurt? Talk to me!” My voice is raw, desperate, barely holding back the terror threatening to take over.
She blinks up at me, dazed. “I… I don’t think I got hit,” she stammers, eyes wide with horror as she stares at the blood. Then, softer, “The bullet must have grazed me.”
Not taking any chances, I scoop her up, carrying her inside as the storm rattles the boat. My heart slams against my ribs with every step. I lower her onto the sofa, hands moving fast, lifting her shirt to find the wound.
There. A deep graze along her side, bleeding but not life-threatening.
My relief is beyond what’s possible, but frustration is right on its heels.
“You reckless, stubborn woman,” I mutter, already reaching for the first aid kit.
Mari lets out a weak chuckle, wincing. “Saved our asses, though.”
I shake my head, pressing gauze to the wound. “Yeah, but let’s not make a habit of it.”
She gives me a faint smile, but exhaustion dulls her eyes. As I secure the bandage, I brush a damp strand of hair from her face.
“We’re okay,” I whisper, more to myself than her.
Because for a moment, I really feared I’d lost her.
That thought alone makes my chest cave in, pain ripping through me.
That’s something I’d never survive.
Then her voice, small but urgent asks, “What about Sofia?”
“She went overboard. I shot her too, but I’m not sure if I hit.”
“I know that. But… does that mean she’s dead?”
A fresh wave of adrenaline surges. I curse under my breath and grab the large torch. The force with which she hit the railing, the way her body went limp before disappearing over the side, I’d be surprised if she was conscious when she hit the water.
But villains always have nine lives, don’t they? Her father certainly did.
I tighten my arm around Mari, tucking her against my side. No way in hell am I leaving her alone while Sofia’s fate is unknown.
Bracing against the rocking boat, we step outside, the wind slamming into us. Rain whips through the air as I shine the torch down into the black water. Nothing.
We move along the railing, scanning every ripple, every shadow. My grip tightens on Mari as the waves churn below.
Then we spot it.
A speedboat, tethered to our yacht, rocking violently with the waves.
“That must be how they got here,” I shout over the howling wind, sweeping the torch over the small vessel. It’s empty. Good. No more ugly surprises lurking in the dark.
Mari shakes her head, baffled. “How did we not hear them?”
I don’t have an answer. The approaching storm, too much focus on getting ready to get off the boat—we clearly were too distracted and too damn careless.
We start toward the cabin, but Mari suddenly grips my arm, her fingers digging in hard. My pulse spikes as I whip my head around, scanning the deck.
Did she see something? Is Sofia back?
“What time is it?” she yells, panic lacing her voice.
My stomach drops .
Shit, shit, shit.
I shove back my wet sleeve, eyes locking on my watch. My heart stalls, and then slams back into motion.
“Oh, thank God.” I exhale sharply. “Eleven fifteen. Fuck. We better get a move on.”
Wouldn’t that be the ultimate irony? Sofia, even in death, getting her wish and dragging us down to the bottom of the sea because we lost track of time.
As we reach the cabin, I grab the storage box with the wetsuits and scuba gear, dragging it inside.
“We need to move. Get out of these wet clothes and into the suits,” I say, kicking the door shut behind me to block out the storm.
But Mari doesn’t move.
She stands frozen, eyes locked on something or rather someone.
A chill races down my spine as I follow her gaze.
A man lounges on the sofa, legs stretched out, a gun resting casually on his thigh.
Who the fuck is he?
I yank my gun from my waistband, but he’s just as fast.
A slow, cocky smile spreads across his face as he points his gun at us.
“Well, hello brother.”