𝑇𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑃ℎ𝑜𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑥 ✔︎ || 𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑑

63

~ phoenix ~

I thought I felt her hands around me. I thought I felt her back against mine as we both trembled uncontrollably. I thought she was still alive.

Was I hallucinating?

Ripping my eyes away from the soft hand clasping mine, I turned to my father. The gun had definitely gone off, smoke rising out of the barrel except... it was pointed up in the air.

Stiva's hand slipped from his arm. I spied a flash of surprise and anger dance across my father's face as he regarded his guard with an expectant glare.

Eventually, Stiva held up a phone to him. Both men stepped away for a moment.

I used that as an opportunity to examine Gianna, who was collapsed against me. I grazed my fingers against her cheek, drawing her eyes to mine.

"Sorry," I mouthed, "I'm so so sorry."

She attempted a weak smile, returning, "Me too."

Before I could check for any more damage, I was ripped away and into a strong set of arms. I struggled in Stiva's hold, violently elbowing whatever part of his body I could reach. However, the more I fought, the closer we were pressed together. I felt the hard impression of a gun at his waist painfully pressing against my back.

My father appeared before us. I stilled.

"Your betrothed has stirred up quite some chaos, hasn't he, cолнышко?" he mused, gauging my reaction. [little sunshine]

My betrothed— Ilya! He wasn't...

I gasped in a deep breath, before kicking and punching Stiva again. I didn't want to feel his touch. I didn't want to be trapped here. I needed to fight to get back home.

"Going on a slaughter spree? I'm not surprised he's landed in his grave—"

I froze.

"—so I will show some mercy on your little friend. We need her in order to leave this hell, my cолнышко. They're coming."

"He's not dead," I muttered.

"Speak up, daughter."

"He's not. He can't be."

"Do not cry, cолнышко. He was only your betrothed..." the bastard consoled, caressing my hair. "If it is the child you are concerned for, I will support you—"

"DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME!"

I jerked back and surprised, Stiva's hands loosened around my hips. That was all I needed. I ducked out of his arms, not before snatching the gun from his waist. Fingers trembling, I pointed it at my father.

Immediately, every gun that wasn't in my own hands was aimed at my head. I was aware of the red laser flittering between my eyes.

Gia protested, "Phoenix!"

"Не моя дочь," he muttered, watching me with the stare of a hawk. [Not my daughter]

Then, just as swiftly, every barrel but mine swung across to Gianna. Her expression transformed to blank stone.

To assert myself, I cocked the glock. The click reverberated in the air around us.

The Italian sun was now wholly risen, glaring against my back.

"Cолнышко—"

"Let us go," I growled, only vaguely aware of what I was doing and what I would do.