Page 7 of Playing with the Devil

On her way she grabbed one of the vases to her left and hurled it at me. The glass shattered behind me but I picked up my pace. Her eyes widened as I lunged for her, wrapping both my arms around her body and sending us toppling down the stairs with heavy breaths and groans of pain.

We landed on the cold tiles with a thump and I realised I was unarmed. Positioned on my stomach with my hands on either side of my head, I glanced up, seeing a discarded gun. I snatched it, whipping onto my back but when I aimed the gun she was already running toward the kitchen.

Scurrying to my feet I released three shots and she ducked before sliding across the floor and hiding behind the kitchen island.

As soon as I stepped into the kitchen she opened fire and I crouched lower, opening the refrigerator door to stop the bullets from reaching me.

I peeked out, allowing multiple gun shots to wring through the air, shattering the glass vase on the counter top above her.

A click sounded from the gun in my hand and I cursed under my breath, tossing it aside.

She must’ve heard it because she picked up fire.

I pressed my back against the counter, shielding myself.

Her movements were sharp and precise, but she was no match for me.

Yanking open the kitchen drawer I let it fall to the ground, the utensils clattering inside. I grabbed a butcher knife and moved forward, hurling it at her.

Her eyes widened as they landed on the knife and she ducked to the floor, letting the weapon sink into the wall. Using this opportunity I lunged forward, grabbing her ankle as I yanked her to me.

She fell flat on her back as I tugged her closer but her foot shot out to my forehead, knocking my head back and I groaned, releasing her.

With quick, shallow breaths she scurried forward and ran, yanking the butcher knife from the wall.

I grabbed the gun she dropped, pulling the trigger and a bullet pierced the side of her arm, making her stumble and groan into the dining room.

I rushed to my feet and when I entered the room she used the butcher knife to slice one of my men’s throats and his blood gurgled, soaking her forearm.

I lifted my hand, the gun pointing directly at her and her body heaved as she stared back at me, eyes filled to the brim with animosity.

Walking backwards she snatched the gun in his waistband, aiming at me while using his body as a shield. Her jaw tightened, her eyes narrowed, and her body visibly trembled with rage.

It was tacit, but her and I were equally driven by years of unspoken resentment. My body language, much like hers, reflected that effortlessly.

Blood gushed from both the wound in her arm and the cut on the side of her face, but she didn’t back down.

Eyes dark yet lit with a vengeful gleam, she stood tall and I knew no matter what I said, she wasn’t backing down.

“You miss me, De Luca?” Her voice broke the silence, and a fire of darkness was relit inside of me. Hearing her voice for the first time in four years felt like gasoline to an already uncontrollable fire.

“Can’t say I have.”

A malicious grin teased her lips, but she didn’t let it form fully, only keeping her hard stare on me.

Grey sweatpants hung low on her hips, the white tank top she wore covered in blood and dirt. Her brown hair that I could still feel between my fingers had been pulled back into a ponytail that now hung low and messy. Mia moglie.

Kiril appeared, pressing the muzzle of his gun to the back of her head and her body went still.

“Drop it,” he ordered but she only dropped the body, not the gun.

With my pulse thudding in my neck I tightened my hold on the gun, not daring to tear my eyes from her fear ridden state.

Kiril pressed his earpiece, then in Italian he ordered the others to get to the dining room and they filled the space within seconds.

Nirah had about thirty more guns pointed at her, but she wasn’t phased. Her hard stare never left mine.

With the satisfaction of having her cornered, I lowered my gun but without the order, my men didn’t follow. “Put the gun down and come here, wife.”