Page 200 of Obsessed by My Ex's Mafia Uncle

Robert, standing several feet behind her with smoke curling from the barrel of his gun, his eyes locked on me with pure terror.

For half a second, my brain refuses to catch up. Everything around me still feels loud. The ocean. Blue crying. My pulse clawing against my ribs. The agony burning through my leg where the bullet tore through me.

“Christine…” Robert calls out my name and I snap out of it.

I scramble toward him instantly, dragging Blue against my chest with one arm while my injured leg screams beneath me.

When I reach him, I’m sobbing so hard I can’t breathe properly.

Robert drops to his knees and catches both of us against him immediately, one arm crushing around my back while the other cups Blue’s head protectively against his chest.

“Easy,” he breathes harshly. “Easy, baby. I’ve got you.”

But I can’t stop shaking.

I bury my face against his neck, crying so violently my entire body jerks with it while Blue clings between us, hiccuping frightened little sobs into Robert’s shoulder.

“She…” I choke on the words. “She said… she…”

“You’re okay.” Robert’s hand slides into my hair, soothing me with tender strokes. “You’re okay.”

“Did you...” I pull back just enough to look at him properly, my vision blurring from tears. “Did you hear what she said?”

His brow lifts.

“She said she killed your wife.” I shudder out. “Your son. Robert, she said she…”

“I didn’t hear it.” He cuts in.

“What?” I blink at him.

His hand cups my jaw carefully, thumb brushing beneath my eye while he stares at me like I’m the only thing still holding the earth together.

“I came outside,” he coos softly, “And all I saw was someone pointing a gun at the woman I love.”

My mouth parts slightly but nothing comes out.

And maybe I should react differently. Maybe I should say something profound or beautiful or life-changing but instead a broken laugh bursts out of me so suddenly it turns into another sob halfway through.

I press my forehead against his shoulder again, crying and laughing at the same time like my body no longer knows the difference between relief and grief.

Somewhere behind us, a groan suddenly breaks through the chaos.

“Oh my God,” Aisha wheezes weakly.

I twist, pulling away to face her.

She’s still sprawled near the tunnel entrance, blinking sluggishly while holding the back of her head.

“Aisha…” I gasp.

“What…” She winces. “What the hell happened?”

I stare at her for one stunned second before another hysterical laugh escapes me.

“Atelia tried to kill us.”

Aisha freezes, then her face contorts.