Chase Me

Chapter Fifty-One: Vendetta

Bellona

8:20 PM

Dark. Quiet. Eerie.

We pulled up to the site and Nex slowed down. I heard our men start to come over and then I heard the rumble of large vehicles that were not ours.

Nex looked out his window toward the large crates placed at the site. We needed to get out and behind them. I removed my gun from my ankle holster and primed it, slowly pulling the slide back and then forward so it wasn't too loud. Nex did the same and then pointed to the crates. I understood. My hand was on the handle. I opened the door. The door closed softly and I made my way to the crate, ducking down into the shadows as Nex drove to place the car far from here.

Voices fanned into the alley, echoing off of the tall stone walls as they came closer, footsteps ringing. Car doors slammed, men spoke. I was far enough that they couldn't hear me but I could hear them. My feet stopped shuffling, my body stopped moving, and my thoughts stopped whizzing when I heard his voice.

"Over here, get the crate."

My hand tightened on the handle of my gun as that anger burned big and vivid in me. I gritted my jaw so hard I swore I heard a crack. I took in a deep breath and angled my body, stepping forward so my foot came in contact with the light.

Something sharp and cold on my neck made me stop and think and remember that there was no breeze tonight. My hands tightened on my gun, but in the dark, a hand came over my wrist, stopping the weapon. Strong fingers almost crushed my wrist and my hand was forced to let go of the firearm. Another hand came over my mouth to muffle the pained grunt I let out when a knee hit me just below the ribs. I coughed hard into the hand, back hitting the crate.

"Donato? Everything okay back there?" A voice shouted from a distance away, behind the crates.

I opened my eyes, struggling to catch my breath with the leather on my mouth and the fading pain in my abdomen. My vision was blurry, but for him, it was crystal clear because I heard him curse under his breath, a note of satisfaction in his voice. "Everything is fine! Just tripped!"

A laugh sounded in the distance and then Donato's attention was back on me. Donato Diaz, Adrian Morales's enforcer and the older brother of Samuel Diaz that we had so generously killed.

"Bellona Maeve," he said in a low voice. "What is a little fox like you doing in Daffodil territory?" He grinned and I felt a shiver run down my spine as I brought in heavy breaths through my nose. Donato tilted his head. "I cannot believe I have the heiress of Chicago right here," his eyes skimmed down and then back up, "with me."

Where was my gun? My eyes scanned around but I couldn't find it anywhere. Donato chuckled. "Your little toy is over there," he tipped his head to the right and I saw my gun uselessly sprawled on the floor. "You won't need it."

Knives, knives, knives. Where were they?

Donato let go of my wrist and pressed his blade into my neck. I closed my eyes. I was beginning to pray a lot tonight and I wasn't stopping now. The more strength I could get on my side, the better.

Donato tsked. "Open your eyes, little fox." Another horrid grin. "I can't wait to bring you to Morales. See what little secrets you have in that head of yours. Heiress of Chicago, Bellona Maeve." He said my name in a patronizing tone.

The knife pressed closer to my neck when I inhaled a breath. I blew it out, keeping it steady. His hand moved away from my mouth and I could finally breathe again. I stopped when the blade slid over my throat, cold metal against my skin making me shake. I wasn't going to die here. No way I was going to die here when there was so much to do. Then again, he wasn't going to kill me. He was going to do much worse—he was going to ruin everything.