Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 40015 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40015 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
A feral roar thundered through the sick laughter that surrounded me, and the suffocating weight of the Russians was suddenly lifted away. I gasped for air, and oxygen flooded my lungs. The sudden shock of awareness was cruelly sharp, magnifying the pain that’d become dulled by disassociation.
I lifted my face from the pool of warm blood beneath my cheek, the world reeling at the smallest movement of my abused body.
Gunshots rang out in a deafening barrage. My tormentors fell around me, some screaming, others deadly silent. Guttural groans were cut off with savage swipes of wickedly sharp blades.
Shockingly green eyes filled my world, and Dante rasped my name as he reached for me.
The firefight continued to rage around us, but the ringing in my ears muffled the deafening booms that echoed through the warehouse.
Dante’s calloused fingertips caressed my bloody cheek—the barest brush of his hand—before he was ripped away from me.
I cried out at the loss, terror flooding my dulled senses.
The Russians would kill him. My savior would die, and then I would be murdered too.
The world wavered at the edges as I took in the horrific scene, unable to look away from the carnage.
But it wasn’t the Russians who had Dante in their murderous grip; Luca grappled with him, a silvery blade flashing between them. Dante twisted to the side, releasing a roar of rage and pain when the knife sank into his shoulder. He shoved Luca off him, and the hilt slipped from my husband’s hand, the blade lodged deep in Dante’s flesh.
Dante’s lips stretched in an animal snarl, and he wrenched the knife free and tackled Luca. His blood glistened on the steel as it arced toward the man I loved.
“No!” I screamed, horror crashing through my haze of agony. “Dante, don’t!”
The blade halted at Luca’s throat, a crimson line beading beneath the sharp edge. My husband went utterly still, and Dante growled in his rage-reddened face.
“Stop!” I cried, struggling to my knees.
Dante’s keen eyes cut to me, piercing my chest. The possessive fury that burned in their depths knocked the air from my lungs, but I managed to plead with him.
“If you care about me at all, don’t hurt him,” I begged.
He lifted the blade, raising it for a killing blow.
My heart hammered against my ribcage with bruising force. I struggled to my feet, desperate to put my body between the Devil and my vulnerable husband.
“I love him!” I shouted.
Dante roared, and the knife slashed toward Luca.
I slipped in the pool of my own blood, and the world spun. Darkness crashed over me.
Chapter 2
Dante
Nora’s knees buckled, and she crumpled to the blood-soaked concrete floor. She didn’t move.
She didn’t try to get to Luca, the man she loved.
Jealousy sank sharp black claws into my heart, but the blade in my hand shifted. I slammed the hilt into my enemy’s skull, and his eyes rolled back in his head. I’d made sure he couldn’t fight me anymore. Not when Nora’s life was on the line.
“Fucking bastard,” I growled at my unconscious enemy. “Stupid, selfish son of a bitch.”
Instead of prioritizing her safety, he’d tried to kill me.
I craved to kill him, to end him so that he could never breathe the same air as her again. If I slit his throat now, he’d never be able to tell her the truth that we both knew: he loved her too.
It was why he’d accepted this tenuous, temporary alliance with me against the Russians. It was all to save her. He would sacrifice anything for Nora.
If you care about me at all, don’t hurt him. Her plea tormented me, staying my hand when I should’ve ended Luca’s life with one swift slash of my knife.
An animal sound tore from my throat as I shoved away from my enemy and sheathed the blade at my side, rushing to Nora’s unnervingly still form. She was unbearably delicate, her skin too pale against the crimson pool beneath her body: a fragile, broken doll.
Mine. She was mine, and the Russians had brutalized her.
And it was all Luca’s fault. I still wasn’t sure exactly how she’d fallen into the Bratva’s hands, but the reckless bastard had let her flee from the safety of my estate.
My stomach twisted. Did she loathe me so much that she felt she had to escape from our home? Had I hurt her so deeply that she truly thought I was a monster, her captor rather than her husband?
I gritted my teeth and shoved the dark thoughts away.
All I’d ever wanted was to protect my wife.
I’d failed.
I carefully gathered her up in my arms, holding her close to my chest. She didn’t stir.
“Nora.” I rasped her name, taking in her injuries.
She was breathing shallowly, and her face was bloody. I could see dark bruises forming on her soft skin where her clothes had been ripped away. And the slick crimson smear between her thighs…