"You like it, don't you?"
"What?" I managed to breathe.
"The fear, Miss Night," he mused, "you crave it."
_______________________________________
Sabina Night owes Antonio Marafi her life.
But when he asks her to spy on the Russo crime family, Sabin...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The first time I heard a gunshot that wasn't on tv, I was twelve. I thought it sounded the same as somebody crushing a tin can, only magnified times ten.
Contrary to popular belief, living in the 'rough' part of town didn't mean that gun shots rang through the air every ten minutes. It did mean, however, that we started to recognize the noise for what it was and could distinguish it from a car backfiring. It also meant that when we heard the sound we would walk a little faster, shut the windows, or lock the door.
Because what living in the 'rough' part of town really taught me to do was mind my own business.
But it was hard to mind my own business when I was the one being shot at.
"Get down!" A voice yelled, one that sounded like Gio.
I counted three. Three gun shots. Three seconds that the black sedan sat at the curb outside Elysium. Three breaths before the windows of the sedan rolled back up and screeched away from the curb.
Three seconds before there were more gunshots— this time they came from the men that surrounded Gio and I. I wasn't sure where the men came from or when they pulled their guns out, but screams came from the few people passing by on the sidewalk.
My body was numb other than Gio's hands squeezing my arms and pushing me forward into the car that waited for us. His men surrounded us, shutting the door as soon as Gio's foot crossed the threshold. My ears were still ringing from the shots that hit the sedan. I wasn't sure I'd taken a breath since the last three. There was a tightness in my chest, in my sides, which made breathing much harder.
Gio didn't bother with his seatbelt or mine as the car sped off. My hands lifted to his face, his throat, running my eyes over him to make sure he was in one piece. His hands did the same, but his were covered in red. And they were shaking.
"Gio," I breathed, still feeling the strain of my numbness, "your hands! You're bleeding!"
Unadulterated panic filled his golden eyes, a different kind of darkness than I'd ever seen in him.
"It's not my blood," he gritted out. "It's yours."
*** Gio.
The name clanged through me, scooping me out of a dreamless sleep. My senses came back to me slowly, spreading over me like honey. The sheets under my palms were scratchy, but cool.
The sun was too bright behind my eyelids and it made my head hurt. As my eyes peeled open, I realized there were two suns. No. Those were lights, weren't they? They were far too bright causing me to squeeze my eyes shut.
Groaning was painful, both in feeling and the way it sounded.
A hand was on my arm and I managed to peel my eyes open long enough to look at the person it belonged to. I saw blue where I expected to see gold and blonde where I expected brown.
