Ruthless Knights (The Dark Elite 2)

Pop! Pop! Pop!

Before I have time to register what’s going on, Zaid is on me, pulling me to the ground and protecting me with his body as the crowd around us scatters. Shouts fill the air, punctuated by the sound of bullets firing. Ciro crouches beside us, and he and Zaid pull me to the side, practically dragging me along the pavement as they seek cover. Lucas is there a second later, joining his brother and Ciro.

Memories of the church come crashing back, making bile rise up my throat. My dress, soaked in blood, my father lying next to me, clutching my veil in his dead hands. The gunfire between two sides of the church, being caught in the middle of it until Hale rescued me…

Hale. Where is Hale?

Unlike at my wedding, my mind is quicker to catch up this time. My heart slams hard against my chest, but I don’t let panic overwhelm me.

Hale. I have to make sure he’s okay.

“Grace, you need to come with—” Lucas shouts.

“No,” I cry, tearing away from them. “I need to—”

The gunshots have stopped. Loud, angry voices still fill the air around me, but no one is shooting. I surge to my feet, pushing through the crowd. I’m searching for Hale without realizing I’m doing it, needing to know if he’s okay, trying to figure out what’s going on. I refuse to be held back and sheltered by Ciro and the twins, not when Hale might be hurt.

Not when this might have something to do with me.

The image of the murdered dog flashes through my head again, and my stomach turns to ice. Was this shooting another attempt to end my life? To bring down the people who protect me?

As the crowd clears, I finally find him.

And my heart stops.

Hale’s ragged shout hits me like a bullet in my own heart. The raw, pained sound dies in his throat as he leans over his father, who lies crumpled on the ground.

Fuck. No.

The scene is too familiar, too painful, but I can’t tear my eyes away, taking in the blood on Hale’s face and shirt with horror. It’s like I’m watching a replay of my own tragedy—only in this version, Hale has been cast as me. I could be watching myself hovering over my father, not wanting to believe the truth.

He’s dead.

The realization seems to wash over Hale with the same horrifying intensity that it struck me the day my dad died. His back stiffens, and he stands quickly. His face is a mask of grief and rage as he draws his gun and stumbles away from his father’s body, already giving directions to his captains.

His captains.

Tires screech from down the street, and several heads whip in that direction.

“Motherfucker. They’re getting away!” Hale yells hoarsely, pushing people aside as he runs in the direction of the assailant.

I duck my head at the sound of shots being fired, my heart rate spiking again. Somewhere close by, a car peels away with a loud revving noise. Bullets ping off the frame with a metallic sound—shots I’m assuming Hale is firing.

“Hale!” I try to call out, but the words barely make it past my lips. I stumble in my heels, my legs are shaking so badly. Reaching down, I pull them off my feet and I toss them aside. “Hale!”

I know this is dangerous. Another car could whip by any second, bullets spraying from the window. But I’m terrified that not all of those shots were fired by Hale. Did he get hit? Is he bleeding out on the pavement, dying just like his father did?

“Grace!” Zaid wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me back. Ciro and Lucas are right beside him, their weapons drawn and gazes scanning the street.

“Hale,” I pant. “Is he—”

“He’s okay. We have to keep you safe, Grace. You can’t run after him.”

I can tell by the rasp of Zaid’s voice that he doesn’t know Hale is all right. Nothing is all right. My heart is still pounding so hard it feels like I might throw up, my thoughts spinning chaotically, but I allow the men to pull me away from the street. It’s only when I see the people crowded around Damian and the puddle of blood around his head that I truly absorb the magnitude of what just happened.

Damian Novak, the leader of the Novak syndicate, is dead.

Hale will take his place.