by J. L. Beck
He is fucking lying, I know he is. Violet would have told me… She would have, wouldn’t she? I try to push the anger away. I try to swallow it down. I can’t let him win. I need my mind sharp. Violet wouldn’t have let him touch her. She would’ve told me.
Closing my eyes, I listen to his footsteps approaching. He is close, but not close enough. I can feel the air shift in the room as his body continues to move closer to mine.
The need to kill pulses in my veins. I want to make this fucker bleed, and I will. I’ll make him bleed all over this fucking house. I blink my eyes open. Adrenaline soaks into every pore on my body, making me see and hear everything in high definition.
I twist around the island with my gun raised to shoot. I pull the trigger, watching as the bullet rips through his shoulder. A groan falls from his lips, and he stumbles backward. I smile and take another step closer, raising the barrel of the gun to his head. Right as I do, I see something moving out of the corner of my eye. I turn to see what the fuck it is fully but I’m a second too late.
The fourth guy comes into view, standing a few feet away from me, with his gun raised. In that moment, I can’t move fast enough to stop whatever is going to happen from happening, and I hear the gunshot before I feel any pain radiate from my stomach.
I grit my teeth, thinking of only Violet in this moment. If I die, she’s as good as dead…
Don’t let her down. Don’t let her fucking down.
With my gun already raised, I point it at him and pull the trigger before he can fire another bullet into me. The side of his head explodes, blood and brain matter splattering against the pristine white kitchen, the same kitchen I shared breakfast with Violet in this morning. I hold a hand to my stomach and watch as his heavy body falls to the floor with a loud thud.
I look down at the wound and find my shirt is already soaked with blood. Fuck! I can feel the last bit of adrenaline draining out of me with every drop of blood that soaks my shirt.
Staggering backward, I grip onto the edge of the kitchen island and brace my body against it. That’s when I hear it. Someone moving on the floor across the kitchen. My gaze swings frantically around the room, but it’s to fucking late.
I’ve failed her…
I spot Luca, who has his gun raised at me, his face filled with pure rage, his finger on the trigger, a sinister grin pulling at his evil fucking lips.
“I’m going to enjoy fucking your bitch before I kill her. I’ll make sure it hurts, too, then I’ll plunge a knife into her heart for safe measure.”
I raise my gun, my arm shaking, my hand sweaty, making the gun slip in my palm. I know I don’t have a chance in hell but I’m not going out until every drop of blood leaves my body, until my lungs stop fucking sucking in air and my heart stops beating.
The sound of a gun being fired meets my ears, and I close my eyes, wishing I could have been better, better for Mira… better for Violet. I failed everyone I’ve ever loved and now I’m going to spend eternity in hell, wishing I was a better man for both of them.
Chapter Seventeen
Violet
I rush over to where Ivan is leaning against the kitchen island. There’s so much blood... It’s dripping from a bullet hole in his stomach, soaking through the white cotton of his shirt. “Ivan,” I beg him, my voice meek and quiet. I gaze down at the wound, afraid to even touch him… touch it.
“Ivan, please open your eyes.” When he doesn’t respond, I talk a little louder. “Damnit, do not die on me right now.” I can’t lose him, I just can’t bear to lose him. We just got free, our life together is just beginning. It’s not supposed to end now. We had hardly any time together. We haven’t had enough time yet. Please, open your eyes.
As if he can hear my silent prayer, his eyes open. His gray eyes melt into mine with a look of shock.
“I shot him,” I say quietly, the gun still heavy in my hand. “I shot Luca… I think I killed him.” My eyes keep returning to his wound.
Blood… I can’t unsee the things that I’ve seen. I can’t undo the things I’ve done now. My eyes move back to Ivan.
“Oh, my god, we need to get you to a hospital. You’re bleeding; there’s blood everywhere.” I’m panicking, the thought of possibly losing him all I can think about.
“No! No hospital,” he groans. “They’ll call… the cops.”
“Ivan, you’re bleeding out… and there is no way in hell I’m going to let you die because you don’t want to go to the hospital.”
“Just… get me… to the car.”
Worry consumes me as I listen to how hard it is for him to talk. I wrap my arm around his midsection as he puts one arm around my shoulders. Using me as a crutch, he manages to walk to the garage. With every step we take, his breathing becomes more labored, and it gets harder for him to take another step.
“Almost… we are almost to the car,” I exclaim. It gets harder for me to hold him up straight, and he slouches against my body more and more as we get closer to the car. Shit, he is heavy. When we finally reach the side of the car, I lean him against it, while I open the door and help him inside as best I can. He groans as he pulls himself into the car the rest of the way, using what looks like an enormous amount of effort. I can’t even imagine the kind of pain he is in right now. He got shot... actually shot with a bullet.
I run around to the driver’s side of the car, hitting the garage opener on the way before I jump into the driver’s seat. Keys? I’m about to ask Ivan where the keys are when I see him trying to get something out of his pocket
“Are the keys in your pocket?” I question.
“Yeah,” he moans painfully.
I lean over and move his blood-covered hand away to grab the keys myself. When I get them out, I hastily put the car key into the ignition and turn. The engine roars to life, and I throw it into reverse and back out of the garage. I grip the steering wheel, my palms sweaty, a nervous knot sits in the pit of my stomach.
“If you don’t tell me where to go, I will take you to the hospital,” I warn.
“Iron… Fist… Gym.” He stumbles over the words, his eyes fluttering closed as if he’s trying to compose himself.
“A gym? You want me to drive you to a fucking gym? Right now isn’t really a good time to work out, Ivan. In case you can’t tell, you’re bleeding out.”
I shake my head. He can’t be serious. Maybe he’s lost too much blood and is delirious with pain.
“Please… just take… me there.” He can barely get the words out and slumps over in the seat as if he doesn’t have the strength to hold himself up any longer.
What the hell am I supposed to do? Worry courses through my veins. I want to take him to the hospital, but Ivan is right, they will call the cops, they’ll ask questions we don’t have answers to and then I remember something that Ivan told me, something about the connections Rossi has. If he has someone on payroll here then I’ll have all but dug our graves, and even if he doesn’t, what the hell am I supposed to tell the cops? If I tell them the truth, they’ll lock Ivan up… and me for shooting Luca. I exhale a ragged breath, contemplating my next move.
“Please… trust me, Kitten.” Ivan looks up at me, and the anguish and pain in his eyes makes me want to cry. He looks like he is dying with all the blood staining his shirt and his slouched over form. Still, I’ve always trusted him, and I know that he wouldn’t be telling me to go somewhere if he thought it was a bad place to go.
“Okay, how do I get there?” I ask, driving through the grass and over the curb to get around the black SUV blocking the driveway. I drive out onto a side street and follow it before pulling out onto what looks to be a main road. Ivan doesn’t respond to my question and instead, just points at the touch screen in the center console.
I narrow my eyes at the screen. One of the tabs reads navigation. I use the find destination tool and type in the name Ivan just gave me, while trying to stay in my lane on the road. I’m going slow as molasses and sigh loudly once it’s finally done cal
culating the route.
Thirty minutes to your destination!?
No. No way.
“Ivan… are you aware this place is half an hour away? Are you gonna make it if I drive that far?” My voice cracks. I don’t want to think about that, about losing him. I can’t think about it, not if I want to get him somewhere that can fix him.
“Yeah… I’m good, Kitten, just drive and everything will be fine.” He doesn't look good. His olive skin is coated in a sheen of sweat and his chest heaves as if breathing is taking every ounce of strength he has. I nod and follow the directions. Once I hit the highway, I floor it, making the engine roar. Going thirty miles over the speed limit might not be a great idea at this point, but I can’t let him die.
Periodically, I gaze over at him, noticing how his eyes keep fluttering closed.
“Ivan, don’t go to sleep. Talk to me... tell me something.” I order.
“I’m sorry… I… it’s this car. We need… to get rid of it.” His body keeps sagging to the side until he’s almost laying in my lap. I can hear how hard it is for him to breathe but I don’t know what to do. I feel so fucking helpless right now.
“Why… what’s wrong with this car?”
“Tracker… there has to be a tracker.” Shit, Ivan is right. How else would they have found us so quickly? Rossi must have tagged this car somehow. I blink the tears away. This happened because he was saving me. I can’t imagine what would’ve happened if I hadn’t shot Luca when I did. I was so scared, so afraid but the thought of losing him terrified me, terrified me more than killing someone.
“Ivan, are you still with me?” I question, feeling the tears slide down my cheeks.
“Yeah.” His voice comes out breathless.
“What do you want me to do when I get to the gym? Who am I looking for?” There must be a doctor at this place, why else would he have me go to a gym?
“Roman… ask for… Roman.”
I glance from the road to Ivan and then down at the screen. Thanks to me driving well above the speed limit, we are only five minutes away. I white knuckle the steering wheel the rest of the way. The copper tang of blood meets my nostrils as I take the next exit with my tires squealing and follow the rest of the directions the navigation gives me.
“We are almost there, Ivan, just hang on a little longer.”
A few minutes later, I pull up in front of a large white building with a small neon sign above the door. Iron Fist Gym. I put the car into park and run inside, nearly tripping over my feet. This is definitely not the kind of gym I was expecting to come to. When I walk in, I enter one large room. There’s a boxing ring in the center with some gym equipment scattered around it. There are mats, and a bunch of guys working out. I panic for a moment, running a hand through my hair.
I have no idea how to find this doctor named Roman, or where to even start looking.
“Can I help you?” A female voice startles me, and I whirl around to find what looks like a teenage girl with pink hair standing a few feet away from me, eyeing me cautiously.
“Roman… Where is Roman?” My words are shaky and come out too fast.
She gives me a confused look. “Are you okay, lady?” The question is irritating, especially with Ivan damn near dead in the car outside.
“Just fucking tell me,” I yell in her face. “Where is Roman?”
“Okay, okay, calm down” She holds her hands up like she is trying to calm me. “He is in the boxing ring over there, the one in the gray shorts.”
I don’t even thank her, I simply run over to the ring where the two guys are sparring. I don’t how crazy I may seem in this moment. All I can think about is saving Ivan’s life.
“Roman?” I call out, and the man in the gray shorts glances over at me with minimal interest. He must be Roman then.
“Who are you and what do you want?” he asks me without missing a beat, ducking when the guy in front of him throws a punch.
“Please, I need your help.” My words come out as pleading, and he glances over at me again for a fraction of a second before he goes back to ignoring me. I don’t know what to do... what to say. I’m so afraid that I’ll lose Ivan that I’m ready to scream, beg and plead, cry.
“Ivan sent me. He said you could help.”
As soon as the words are out, Roman stops, his movements halt completely and he waves the guy in front of him away. He turns on his heels and walks over to me and if I wasn’t already scared out of my fucking mind, I would be right now. He is so big and muscular, just like Ivan, and he is stalking toward me like he is about to strangle me. He’s intimidating as hell, and I want to take a step backward but I can’t. I refuse to be afraid of this man when he’s my only chance at saving Ivan.
“What does he want?” he sneers.
“He is outside, he needs…”
Roman cuts me off before I can even finish. “Why the fuck would my brother send in a little girl to get me?” He rolls his eyes as if he’s annoyed. “Tell him to walk his fucking ass in here himself if he wants to talk.”
I know I should be shocked by what he’s said but I’m not.
“He is dying!” I blurt out.
It takes Roman about half a second to realize what I’ve said and then he’s moving. He steps out of the ring and rushes past me, toward the front doors. I follow him out the door, suddenly realizing that Roman just called Ivan his brother.
“What the fuck happened to him?” Roman growls at me while opening the passenger door. His eyes are full of fury, and he looks like he might rip my head off.
“He was shot.” I try to get my breathing under control, my pulse pounds in my ears, and all I want is for Roman to help him.
“I was going to take him to a hospital, but he insisted that I bring him here instead. Please tell me you can help him? He’s lost so much blood, and I don’t think that he would make it if I had to turn around and drive him to the hospital.” Tears start falling from my eyes.
Roman ignores me and instead, grabs Ivan by the arms, pulling him into a sitting position. Ivan doesn’t even say anything, nor does he look like he’s breathing.
“Help me get this asshole inside.” Cursing under his breath, Roman pulls his brother out of the car. A grunt of pain passes Ivan’s lips while both of us slip under his arms and help him inside. His legs barely move and Roman carries most of his weight while I just help keep him balanced.
“Ivan also said that this car has a tracker on it and that we need to get rid of it.”
Roman grunts as if he is annoyed by all of this as he kicks the door open with his foot and we carry Ivan inside.
“Devin… Mac,” Roman booms through the large room, drawing attention. All heads turn in our direction but only two guys start to run toward us. I step away while one of the guys takes my place. The girl from earlier suddenly stands next to us, staring us down.
“Have some of the guys get rid of the car out front… immediately,” Roman orders the girl, and she just nods before scurrying away.
I follow behind the three men as they carry Ivan down a long hall and into some back room. Once inside the room, I realize why Ivan wanted to come here. This place looks like a mixture between an operating room and a doctor’s office.
I cautiously watch as the three guys place Ivan on the table in the center of the room and start moving around it like they’re a well-trained team of doctors. Like they do this every single day.
“Lower the table as much as you can,” Roman orders and to my confusion sticks a needle in his own arm. Puzzled, I don’t realize what he is doing until the other guy sticks the same kind of needle into Ivan’s arm and they attach the two with a clear tube. Bright red blood starts to flow through the tube from Roman’s arm into Ivan’s, and I realize then that Roman is giving his brother a blood transfusion.
“Can I help with anything?” I question, worrying my bottom lip while staring at Ivan’s lifeless form. They’re all working in sync with each other, and I have no idea what to do. I want to cry
. I want to scream at the world for giving me this man only to take him away.
“Just stay out of the way, and you’ll be fine,” Roman growls, as they rip Ivan’s shirt off his body. I gasp seeing the wound for the first time. Blood covers his skin, and all I want to do is run over to him and hold his hand and tell him everything is going to be okay, but I can't. Instead, I lean against the wall, feeling as useless as hell. All I can do is stay out of the way and watch as these three men save Ivan’s life.
The guy who Roman called Mac puts a pair of latex gloves on and starts digging his fingers into Ivan’s wound.
A pained cry rips from Ivan’s throat as he thrashes against the table.
“Hold the fuck still,” Mac growls and continues digging around until he pulls out a small silver bullet. He throws it into a metal bowl off to the side, and it lands with a loud clunk. Mac grabs some gauze and presses it into the wound, earning a loud growl of displeasure from Ivan.
“Pussy,” I hear Roman say under his breath.
“Is he going to be okay?” I ask.
Roman’s dark gaze swings to mine, and he looks me up and down, inspecting me with a fine-toothed comb. “Who are you again?”
His tone pisses me off, and I can't hold back the snarky response from slipping out. “Violet and I'm his… friend.” I cross my arms over my chest and stare him down. It feels like he's judging me, and I don't like it. He doesn't know me or what Ivan and I have been through.
“That's what they call it now, huh?” he snorts.
“Roman,” Ivan growls as if in warning, his eyes finally opening.
I rush over to his side and grab onto his clammy hand. He doesn't look at me and that's okay. I just want him to be okay.
“Don't Roman me. I have a right to know who the fuck she is. She's in my gym, and she brought your injured ass in here.” Roman takes the needle out of his arm and pushes some gauze on the tiny wound while Mac starts to sew up Ivan.
