Page 97 of Vendetta

The scent of cinnamon-soaked alcohol and charred ashes burned my nose. Everything blurred together before I shook my aching head to clear it.

Francisco’s forearm flexed across my neck. “I thought I’d lost you there for a second. I can get a little overzealous on occasion. Good that you’re resilient. You’ll need it if you want to survive.”

He chuckled, sending a wave of that bitter, burning cinnamon smell wafting over me. Finding my arms free, I grabbed at him, trying to push myself away, but he only laughed harder.

“Let me go!” I clawed at his arm, but it was no use.

“Don’t you want to see the show?” He tightened the pressure on my throat until spots were blooming on the ceiling again. “Nico will be here any minute. I’d hate to accidentally kill you before then.”

If only I could get my chin under his arm, I could bite him. His suit looked thick and unappetizing, but I was willing to try anything at this point.

Before I had a chance to attempt anything, the door shuddered on its hinges and peeled open. The grinding scrape of the solid wood across the floor was jarring in the previously quiet space. As soon as there was room, Nico stumbled in. A guard in a mask holding a gun to his head. They were followed by the rest of my pack, equally motivated to behave, along with a handful of soldiers.

“Tell me you didn’t kill Rocco,” Francisco's long-suffering sigh rumbled against my back.

Nico ignored the question and admirably made no comment about the decapitated head staring his way like a hollow-eyed desk ornament. “You sent for me?”

“It’s quite unfortunate that you are so very, very bad at following instructions. Perhaps with the proper motivation, you will follow this one.” Francisco pressed the cold muzzle of his gun to my throat. “Break the bond you initiated with Rosa here, and we can discuss your position in the organization.”

I tried to tell him with my eyes that he should do it. It was a small price to pay for his lifelong ambition. I’d suffer the backlash of the bond snapping, but we’d both be alive. That was all that mattered.

Nico paused as if thinking it over. “And why would I do that?”

“You’d take Marcel’s place and be formally recognized as my successor. If not…” He jostled me on his lap. “I’ll have to kill you and simply make more heirs.”

My stomach twisted with disgust. The muscles bunched in Cruz’s cheeks, and I could almost hear his teeth grinding in frustration.

“How about instead, you give me my mate, and we let you live,” Nico suggested, and assumed a bored stance despite the gun barrel pointed at his head.

I’d seen that deceptively composed look enough times. He was anything but bored. He was murderous.

A handful of soldiers shuffled uneasily in the splintered doorway. The three with guns trained on my guys were rock solid, though. We were badly outnumbered, and they were likely to do something stupid. I had to stop them. This was suicide.

“It’s okay, Nico, do it.” I blinked at the sudden sting of tears and pushed past the growing lump in my throat. “You’ve worked so hard. This is your whole life. I’m not worth losing this over.”

His dark brows drew together in a frown. Oliver’s eyes widened, as if shocked that I’d give them up so easily.

“Is that really what you want, bella?” he asked, staring straight into my soul.

Of course, it wasn’t what I wanted. But sometimes you can’t have what you want. Sometimes, you make sacrifices for those that you love. My eyes shifted slowly to the gun pressing into the flesh at my neck. I didn’t want anyone to die, but I would take the pain if it meant they could live.

Nodding, I dropped my eyes to my lap. I couldn’t let him see the tears that pooled, waiting to fall, or the soul-deep wound I’d just ripped in my own chest.

Nico’s voice was steady. “You’ll have to reject the bond, then. I’ll never break what we have.”

I choked back a sob, the whole room blurring through my watery gaze as I lifted my chin to look at him. If I rejected him, I’d lose them all forever. “I… can’t…”

Francisco’s grip on me tightened, anticipating my redoubled struggle. “This is all very touching, but I have work to do. Let’s make this easy on everyone, shall we? Kill them,” he ordered the guards.

The masked soldier next to Nico turned his gun toward Oliver and pulled the trigger. My scream shattered the room just as surely as the explosion of gunfire did.

Oliver’s guard swung around, shooting one of the alphas who’d been standing at the door in the head and startling the rest into action. Bullets went flying. Cruz and Ollie suddenly had guns in their hands and were firing on Francisco’s goons as they backed into the hall. Nico dropped to one knee, grabbing a gun from his ankle holster, and raised it, aiming straight at me. I shrieked, finally tearing out of Francisco’s grip and tumbling to the floor. Francisco wasn’t going to let me go that easily, nor was he about to wait to get shot. He ducked behind the desk just in time to avoid the bullet with his name on it, and grabbed for me.

His meaty palm speared through my hair, yanking me toward him and dragging me across the floor. I flailed, trying to get away. In the commotion, my eyes landed on the gun I’d dropped earlier. I strained for it, my scalp screaming in protest as I inched my hand under the desk. Just a tiny bit further. Then my fingers landed on the cold steel.

I ignored the pain as strands of hair ripped from my head, but I got it and pulled it closer to me. At the same time, Francisco hauled me back along the rug. My fingers wrapped around the grip, and I rolled. Francisco’s hand tangled in my hair, unable to get free, and when he saw the barrel of that pistol aimed at his face, he had nowhere to go.

I changed my aim at the last second and caught him in the shoulder. He bellowed, floundering at the pain in his arm. I pulled my hair free and scrambled away from where he thrashed behind his desk.