𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 |𝟏𝟖+|

57

Miguel Raffetò POV

Zero joined us around Pollie and Romes, looking freshly fucked and happy to see us. It was good to spend a few hours with my brothers again. But I hadn't mentioned to him or anyone that I know the reason he's looking so chuffed with himself but right now, that's not on my list of priorities.

What's on my list of priorities is making sure Etts is okay and that we're good.

Hearing her ask about the night before everything went to shit was like a sucker punch to the gut. Of course it was my own doing, but having to explain that our last night of sex was a goodbye, killed me.

But that night we fucked, it was my way of saying thank you to her. A farewell fuck, but one that meant so much.

But now, since what happened in the shower, we'd been inseparable again though we hadn't actually taken the next step.

And we won't be getting freaky until she's healed, I refuse to set her back.

But on the ride home, Etta was silent. I knew my words struck a cord and I hated that I made her crawl into herself.

She's my everything, and I need to make it right.

But when I wheeled her up the hallway to her apartment, everything was far from right.

Her door was open.

Fuck.

"Migs..." She whispered once I stopped and walked in front of her. "Migs don't go in there." She reached for my wrist and the panic on her face made me feel like a bastard for bringing my past life into her innocent one.

"Let me just check it out baby." And of course it's typical that I don't carry a gun anymore.

"Migs..." She whimpered again, worry straining on her features as I closed the distance and kissed her.

"Stay here, I'll be safe." Her eyes flickered like she wanted to beg me to stay, but I needed to see what the hell was going down. "I love you." I said before walking further down the hallway to her apartment.

When I hovered by the open door, I heard scuffling and the sound of low voices. It was too muffled to make out, but whilst whoever it was sounded preoccupied, I slipped inside.

What. The. Fuck.

Across the room, slumped against Etta's bookshelf was Enzo.

He was holding his side whilst glaring at a man who was currently stood above him, waving a gun around like it was nothing.

Who the fuck is this guy? And why the fuck is he in Etta's home.

That's when I saw it. The blood pooling out around Enzo.

Enzo saw me, and whilst I was slowly - so slowly - making my way further into the apartment, I saw the warning in his eyes.

Run. It's him.

The motherfucker who ran Etta down.

My blood ran colder than ice, but I forced myself to listen to the words of this bastard rather than the ringing now pounding furiously in my ears.