Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
I must take a few deep breaths to keep my anger in check. It will be good to hear Marco scream for mercy—mercy I won’t fucking give him. Fiora and I aren’t as helpless as Marco wants to believe. Because men with the upper hand get big heads, and people with big heads make even bigger mistakes.
Fiora’s glare at me grows even sharper. She jerks her head again, accidentally knocking the top of her head against Marco’s. He pushes her slightly and smacks her across the back of the head with the pistol. I take two steps forward, but Marco flashes the gun at me, and I stop. I’m close enough now that I can charge him. Well, if I had a few seconds, at least. All I need is a slight distraction.
A distraction. When Fiora looks up again, it clicks. That’s what she’s offering. She will throw herself back against Marco to give me that window. Shit. Will it be enough time? If she does and he recovers too quickly, we’ll both bleed out on this rooftop. But if it works…
Fiora mouths something to me again and I finally catch this one.
Ready.
She’s ready for whatever it takes to make it out of here alive.
That’s my fucking girl.
“Why wouldn’t I?” I question, attention bouncing from Marco to Fiora. I need to give her a signal somehow. If she moves too early, she’s fucked. If she moves too late, I’m fucked. But if we don’t do anything, we’re both fucked.
These aren’t very good odds, but it’s better than a bullet to the head.
“Why would— Why wouldn’t I?” Something about my question must have triggered him, but Marco starts ranting, drawing his gun up in the air as he does so. “This is what’s wrong with you fucks. You always think you’re better than everyone else. That you get off scot-free. Newsflash, you fucking don’t. I knew full fucking details of Mason’s shit, and I still couldn’t pin anything on him. So, you know what I did? Hired someone to fix that for me. It’s that easy.”
Even with his rant and his gun, Marco looks fucking pathetic. If he had any guts, Fiora and I would have already been dead. Dead men don’t tell tales and all that. But Marco lays it all out like we’re on some TV show, and this is his moment to shine.
Dumbass.
Fiora motions down with her chin toward Marco’s bottom half. I glance down and see that she’s positioned between his legs at the perfect angle to kick him in the balls. That would certainly buy me more than a few seconds. Fiora gestures with her head like she’s lolling forward, then slightly jiggles her leg again to show me she’s ready to kick.
Then she slowly and clearly mouths: Three.
Damn, she’s got more balls than Marco. No wonder I chose her.
I nod once but cover it up by stretching out my neck.
“So what, you’re just gonna cover everything up with murder?” I ask. I signal a “one” to Fiora with my pointer finger then stretch them by my sides.
“Why not? I’ll take one out of the Godwin’s playbook.”
“Maybe you should take two.”
At my signal, Fiora takes a quiet but deep breath. Marco’s face scrunches up in confusion.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” he asks.
“Our second rule,” I assert. “Never count a man out. Three.”
As soon as the word leaves my lips, Fiora reels her head back and slams it into Marco’s chin. I charge forward at the same time, gravel crunching under my boots. Marco hisses and holds onto his chin, pushing Fiora away from him so hard she stumbles forward onto her knees. He swings around the gun, but I’m already there. I grab his wrist before he can point it at her and send my fist straight into his nose.
Marco folds back only slightly, recovering quickly enough to shoulder check me in the middle of my chest. I stumble back but cling to his wrist, twisting to make him drop the gun. My gun sits heavy on my back, but I don’t have time to grab it. Marco wraps an arm around my neck and drags me forward, kneeing at my front as best he can. He barely hits my arm, but it’s enough to make me loosen my grip on his wrist.
There’s a feminine cry from somewhere behind me. Shit. Is Fiora okay? Is she hurt? I must protect her. I won’t let this bastard take her from me.
Marco flexes the wrist in my grip and struggles against my hold, slightly lifting the gun.
“Braken!”
Another gunshot rings out in the quiet night.
Chapter 40
Fiora
The air smells like iron and sulfur.
A long moment passes, then another, and another. It’s as if the world freezes before me. Did Marco’s bullet hit Braken? Is he okay? Maybe Marco shot himself. That would be the best-case scenario.