Chapter 197 197

Chapter 197 197
After I hang up the phone, I wrap Gabriel’s chest in bandages and move on to his arm. I have no idea what I’m doing—just another thing I need to learn when we get out of this.

If we get out of this.

I hate that I can’t hear anything through the thick wall. I have no idea if the fighting is still going on or if more Italians have shown up or if Felicity’s men are standing in the bedroom only a few feet away from me, trying to figure out the best way to force their way inside.

Then I hear the knock. Heavy, fast, and insistent.

“Alexis,” I hear. It’s a female voice, but I can’t place it.

“Who is it?” I call back.

“Antonella. Backup has arrived. It’s safe to come out now.”

The fact that Silvano hasn’t come to fetch us personally is worrying. Is he dead? Gabriel will be devastated if he loses another Gambaro. I really hope Silvano is just busy somewhere. In any case, Gabriel needs to get to a hospital now, so I don’t have time to dwell on who it is delivering the news, just that they’re here.

I punch the code into the door, and the lock clicks open. The door slams inward, nearly whacking me in the arm. I open my mouth to yell at Antonella when I see who is really on the other side of the door. The complaint dries up on my tongue.

Felicity Huffman is slumped into the side of one of her goons, breathing heavily. She is caked in blood, her face wan, eyes wild. Two other Cartel members are there with her, and one of them has a knife to Antonella’s throat. Blood drips down from where the knife has begun to slice into her skin. He tosses the poor woman to the floor, and all four of them barge into the safe room.

I run to Gabriel’s side and grab the gun, shielding Gabriel with my body while I aim.

The biggest of Felicity’s brutes lunges for me, but I have a millisecond window of opportunity, and I use it.

I don’t give Felicity a chance to hurt Gabriel again. I don’t even give the bitch a chance to speak. I put a bullet in her head and watch as she slumps forward, finally dead. Then the Colombian tackles me, and the gun goes sailing across the room.

She’s dead, I think. Felicity is dead, and Harry and Clara are safe.

So it doesn’t hurt as much when the man on top of me punches me in the face, even though the coppery taste of blood fills my mouth. It could be worse.

“Get off her!” I hear Gabriel slur. He launches himself from the sofa and manages to knock the Cartel thug off me, but the other two quickly descend into the fracas. It’s a small space, and I lose track of who is who and which way is up. I kick and claw and bite at anyone who tries to touch me, and even though I know we are vastly outnumbered and that Gabriel and I are going to die in—of all places—the safest room in the penthouse, I intend to go out fighting.

BANG.

The gunshot is deafening in the small space, and I cry out in surprise. My ears ring.

BANG.

Confusion is the name of the game, especially when the man on top of me stops strangling me and goes limp.

BANG.

I try to heave the man off me, but he’s too heavy. I only succeed in pushing his shoulder away from my face. Silvano is in the doorway, and he shoves his gun into the back of his pants and rushes over to help me.

“I leave you alone for two seconds,” he jokes as I slide out from under the hefty corpse.

I glare at him. Now is not the time.

“Is backup actually here this time?” I say as I get to my feet.

Silvano has already started to lift Gabriel, and I go over to help him.

“They’re here,” he grunts. Gabriel is heavy.

Luckily, Dom and Antonio appear in the doorway, blood splattered across their faces and the front of their white shirts.

“Shit, is he alive?” Dom asks, running over to take my place.

“For now,” I say. “He needs to get to the hospital.” I grab Silvano’s phone from the floor and hand it back to him. “Silvano, go make sure all the injured are taken care of, and I want a list of the dead.” I gesture to Antonio. “You and Dom take Gabriel down to the car. I’m going to grab my phone, and I’ll run down to meet you.”

The men all nod, and Antonio and Silvano switch places and carry Gabriel out of the room. I expected maybe a little pushback from Silvano, who I’m sure is used to assuming the mantle of authority in Gabriel’s absence, but he doesn’t hesitate to start actioning my command.

I run through the penthouse, grimacing at the utter carnage the Cartel have left behind. Blood and broken glass is everywhere. One of the ballroom doors lies in broken splinters on the ground, and I pick my way gingerly through the mess, conscious of the many cuts I have already suffered to my bare feet.

The table where my phone was has been upended, but I manage to find it after only a brief sift through the detritus. I try not to look at the bodies. Silvano will tell me who is dead and who survived soon, and I can’t focus on that right now. Gabriel needs to get to the hospital, and I won’t be the one to hold that up.

I race to the elevator and then through the lobby, attracting concerned stares as I smear bloody footprints across the marble. Antonio and Silvano have just finished loading Gabriel into the SUV, and I hop in next to him. Silvano takes off just as sirens begin to ring in the distance.

I buttress myself against Gabriel, and his head lolls to the side, then rolls forward. He looks up, blinking blearily, as though he has just woken from a bad dream.

“Hey,” I say, turning to face him.

Gabriel smiles at me. It’s a woozy, drunken smile. He has lost a lot of blood.

“Hey, Tiger,” he says.

I hold his face in my hands. “Stay with me. We’re going to be at the hospital soon.”

Silvano is driving like a hellion through traffic. I’m surprised we’re not already there.

“Tiger, Tiger, burning bright,” Gabriel murmurs.

He must have really lost a lot of blood if he’s started quoting William Blake. I seize the opportunity to try to keep him awake.

“What’s the rest of the poem?” I ask.

Gabriel blinks in confusion.

“Tiger, Tiger, burning bright,” I prompt. “In the forests of the night…”

Gabriel’s eyes are unfocused, and his light smile rolls down his lips into a lopsided grin. He turns his head to kiss my hand.

“I’m proud of you,” he slurs, and it’s not the next line of the poem, but it makes my heart hiccup all the same.

Then he passes out.