Savages (Depraved Sinners 3)
Giovanni pulls at my arm, and as the soldier releases me, I take my shot. I rip my arm out of his tight grip and race toward the boys, dropping down to my knees and grabbing at their hands, desperate to pull them up. “Come on,” I cry, tugging at Marcus’ hand, flicking my gaze back to Giovanni to see him coming closer. “Now. Come on. We have to go. Get up. You’re not dying here. Not today.”
Marcus squeezes my hand as Levi’s fingers brush over my blood-soaked knee. “Run,” he grunts, the words getting caught in his throat. “Run. Now.”
I shake my head, not wanting to leave them here. “No,” I rush out, Giovanni bearing down on me. “Not without you.”
I tug on their arms, reaching for Roman but he pulls back. “LEAVE US AND FUCKING RUN.”
Giovanni grips my arm, and as he yanks me up, desperation catches hold of me and my hand scoops through the grass, my fingers curling around the gold handle of the long, thin knife he used to stab all three of his sons.
I slam it up and the blade pierces through his shoulder. He cries out in agony, his grip loosening on my arm, giving me just a moment to break free. I take off at a sprint, tears staining my eyes as I run out toward the thick woods surrounding the property, soldiers racing after me.
Bullets whiz past my face and I scream out, slamming one foot down after another as bright beams of light flash toward me. I risk glancing back over my shoulder to find five black SUVs racing down the long drive with a man on a motorbike, three of the SUVs heading for me, while the other two storm toward Giovanni and his soldiers.
Gunshots ring out and my hands fly up over my head, not sure where the fuck they’re coming from or who they’re even aiming at.
The SUVs cut in behind me, circling me and forcing me to change direction as the move separates me from the soldiers. The black SUV speeds up, driving right alongside me, and I glance across to the driver as the window rolls down, the man on the motorbike pulling up right beside me.
Gia Moretti stares back at me through the driver’s window, an automatic gun held tightly in her hand. She nods to the man on the motorbike, the wind whipping her hair all around her face. “Get on,” she calls through the night, her voice barely a whisper as it gets lost in the breeze.
My head whips across to the man on the motorbike, and as he flips his visor up, I recognize the dark, mysterious man who’d kidnapped me only a few short hours ago. Before I even get a chance to ask what the fuck is going on, his arm snaps out, curling around my waist and hauling me up onto his lap.
He takes off like a rocket, shooting out in front of the SUVs, his long, dark dreadlocks flying in the wind behind him. I hold on for dear life, my body plastered to his as I stare back over his shoulder, watching Giovanni in the distance, his soldiers helping him to his feet as the two remaining SUVs back off.
He stares after us, his hand gripping his shoulder as he watches me leave, and as the motorbike hits the front gates and tears out onto the main road, I watch as he slowly turns toward his dying sons.
Three booming gunshots sound through the night and are the last thing I hear as I leave the DeAngelis family mansion for good, tears streaming down my face.