Ruthless Vow (Vegas Vicious #2)

25. Leo

25

Leo

Time slows to a crawl and I feel like I’m watching events in freeze-frame detail. Nicole cries out and her body jerks a millisecond after the gunshot, her arms jerking up reflexively as she stumbles back. Her face contorts in shock and pain. I catch her as her legs give way, holding her against me as I spin so my back is to Bianca, my body protecting Nicole from another shot.

Just as she protected me.

I hear a mechanical clack, but not the sound of a round being chambered. I spare a glance for Bianca, who stands with her pistol aimed at my head.

A misfire. Her gaze snaps to mine and then she turns and runs.

The predator in me wants to give chase, to take her down, rips her limbs from her body and paint myself in her blood.

But Nicole is hurt. Nicole has been shot . She took the shot meant for me.

I won’t leave her side.

“Luca!” I roar as I lower Nicole to the ground, looking up only long enough to see him tackle Bianca to the ground.

There’s a hole in Nicole’s chest, small and neat. I slide my hand under her back, looking for an exit wound. There isn’t one.

Blood stains her gown in a widening circle, frothy blood gathering at the edges of the wound in her chest.

Fuck. Fuck.

That means the bullet clipped her lung, and the sucking sound I hear is air being dragged into her chest through the hole.

I tear off my jacket, fold it, and press it against her chest, applying pressure to slow the bleeding.

I’ve shot dozens of people. I’ve been shot in return. I watched my father die in front of me.

And I’ve never before felt this hopeless, helpless sense of utter despair.

Nicole’s breathing too fast, every inhalation short and desperate, small sounds of pain escaping her lips. She’s not getting enough air. She can’t get enough air.

“You’re okay, my little wolf,” I whisper. “You’re going to be okay.”

But her lips are blue, her skin cold and clammy.

“Leo.” She has no breath to say my name. I only see her mouth shape the letters.

Terror nearly overwhelms me. She can’t die.

“I need you,” I say, pressing hard against the wound. But the situation is dire. I might slow the bleeding, but she needs more than that. She needs something that can seal the wound and stop more air from entering her chest cavity because the more air that goes in through the bullet hole, the less she’ll be able to breathe. “Stay with me, Nicole. Stay with me.”

Her lids flutter closed. She forces them open, her eyes finding mine.

“I’m here, Nicole. I won’t leave your side. Fight, my piccolo lupetta . I need you to fight.” Now it isn’t just her lips that are blue. Her skin has taken on a bluish tinge. “You’re going to see Sofia, soon. We’ll find her and bring her home.”

“Tell her I love her,” Nicole whispers. She has no breath. I barely hear the words.

“You’ll tell her yourself,” I say.

She gives a tiny shake of her head, and her expression is both sad and accepting as her eyelids slide shut.

“No!” I roar. “Nicole! Nicole!”

Hands grab my arms and pull me from her side. Two men crouch next to her and I hear snippets of their words.

“…pneumothorax…cyanotic…tachycardia…” one says.

“…chest tube…” says the other. “…pleural space…”

I struggle against the hands holding me, trying to get back to Nicole’s side.

“Let them work, Leo,” Damien says.

And then one of the men looks at the other and shakes his head.

I am a man who prefers to control my emotions rather than having them control me. But in this moment, I have no control. Rage and hate and grief drown me, stealing my breath, my thoughts.

I stalk to where Luca holds Bianca with her hands pinned behind her.

I pull my knife from the sheath at the small of my back.

Without a word, I plunge it deep into Bianca’s belly, drawing the blade up in a straight line. She screams and struggles, but Luca holds her easily.

I push my hand through the long slit, into her belly. I close my fist around the slippery loops of her intestine. Then I pull her guts out through the slit, letting them fall like an apron.

She screams in terror, in pain.

“You’re the one who’s worthless, valueless, disposable,” I say.

Then I walk around behind her, yank her head back by her hair, and slit her throat.