“Bitch, you think I trust you?” he sneers. “You’ve fucked me over every step of the way. Once you’re in the hands of the cartel, it’s your turn to get fucked over until you’re dead.”
Ally gets onto her knees. She crawls to him. I grind my teeth, my fist clenching together so tightly I expect my fingers to break. I’d kill him now, but the sudden movement might cause his trigger finger to move. She’s alive right now. That’s what matters.
“Please,” she says, on her knees. “There’s a part of you that knows this is wrong. I know it. What Lev did to your father is unforgivable, but you don’t need to do the same thing. Don’t let his actions affect yours. It’s—”
“It’s too late,” Marco interjects, his gaze switching between her and me.
“I’ll do anything you want,” she says. “We could get married. I’ll convince everyone that you saved me from Lev. I just don’t want anyone else to die. I’ll even let you sell me to the Mexican cartel. I’ll be a willing participant. I’ll be their best slave. I’ll let them fuck me in every way possible and I’ll act like I love it. I’ll do anything if you—”
She jerks upward, grabbing Marco’s arm that’s holding his gun. His arm swings wildly, his other hand punching her head and neck. I dive toward the car wreck, grabbing a piece of twisted metal.
I see nothing except Ally, too close to the gun and Marco’s fist, but I manage to grab his head, gripping his hair. I yank his head away from me. He struggles, the sound of gunshots ripping through the air.
Then I stab the piece of metal into his throat. It cuts into my hand, but I swing again and again, until I’m bleeding and he’s bleeding.
Until there’s no blood left in his body to escape.
Then I let him go. He crumples to the ground, pale and dead.
I grab Ally. “Are you okay?” I run my hand over her body, searching for gun wounds, but all I do is leave a trail of blood. Some of it mine, some of it not.
“He didn’t hit me,” she murmurs. As my hand ends on her one good wrist, I stumble. She grabs my elbow, helping to lower me to the ground. I see her face, a glowing light as everything around her turns blurry. “You’re good, you’re good. We just need to find a phone …”
I get back onto my feet, though everything feels illusory now.
“The car,” I say. “Your father’s car. Come on …”
I lead her back to the police car, my hand on her back and her hand on my arm. I open the driver’s door.
Then I fall, the world slipping by me and Ally’s anxious face bending closer before darkness takes over.
24
Allison
The baby is okay. In the space of an hour, I not only learn that there is, in fact, a baby for sure, but also that everything that happened tonight didn’t hurt it. I want to weep with relief but can’t. Lev is in surgery. He needs me to hold it together so I can be there for him when he wakes up.
The splint on my arm lies awkwardly on the waiting room chair’s armrest. I watch Garner Hospital’s staff move back and forth through large swinging doors. I try not to feel frustrated as they chat with each other, laughing and flirting. People are dying in this hospital and they’re trying to get laid.
I move my splinted arm up, clasp my hands together, and close my eyes.
God, I’ll give up my dreams of being a prosecutor if Lev survives. I’ll do anything. Just don’t let him die.
I open my eyes. Nothing feels different, just more desperate. If the Holy Spirit dropped by while I was praying, it didn’t linger.
I stand up, walking down the hall to the vending machine. I don’t have any money, but the multitude of choices seems like a decent distraction.
I have no idea what Lev’s favorite food is. Somehow, it’s never a discussion we touched on when we were quizzing each other.
“Ally!”
I turn. My father comes running to me. He hugs me, carefully avoiding my splintered arm.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“The officer who arrived at the scene called me,” he says. “Are you okay?”
My mind flickers to Lev, still in surgery. “I’m fine.”
He checks my splint and my face.
“You told the first responders … you said that Alekseiev was kidnapped by the Italian Mafia and that he saved your life,” he says. “Is that true?”
His apprehension gets under my skin. I tap against the vending machine’s glass, biting back all of the sarcastic answers I want to give.
“It’s the truth,” I say.
“Is it the full truth?”
He wants me to tell him about the Bratva. It means, at the very least, he suspects I know more than I let on I knew at the gala. And, if everything hadn’t changed, I might have broken down and told him everything.
“It’s the truth,” I repeat. There’s a flicker of disappointment across his face, but he hugs me again.
“I’ll deal with everything,” he says. “The media has already caught wind of what happened. One of the EMTs must have talked. I’ll have to tell them what you said.”
He hesitates, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Are you waiting for Alekseiev to get out of surgery?”
I nod.
“I’ll stay with you.”
I take a deep breath. “When you talk about Lev, can you refer to him as my fiancé?”
He looks down at his hand, which is holding mine. “If that’s what you want, I’ll do it.”
“You need to know,” I say. “He only stole your car to save me.”
His forehead furrows. “Alekseiev didn’t steal my car, darling. I gave it to him.”
I replay the scenario that had been in my head. My father handing over his keys had never
