Page 70 of Wicked Truths
Tears blur my vision as reality crashes down. “I know,” I whisper, my voice breaking.
A gunshot cracks through the night air. Dom’s hand clamps around mine, yanking me away from the club.
“Are you going to kill me?” I ask, inhaling sharply, saying the words I already know the answer to.
Just yesterday, I wouldn’t have had to ask Dom this question. Now, I’m not so sure.
Dominic tilts his head to one side and smiles.
He slides his finger over my cheek, but he isn’t looking into my eyes when he says, “I wouldn’t be able to kill you, piccola. You know that.” He finally looks into my eyes. “I’d get someone to do it for me.”
He releases me, and I try to steady myself, but my legs are wobbly, and I slap my hand against the wall to stop myself from crashing onto the floor.
I stare at his car ahead, my head pounding not from the alcohol I consumed but from knowing my end is nearing.
He looks over my shoulder once more. He’s never looked so nervous as he raises his hand in the air and points behind me, showing two fingers.
I wrap my arms around myself to contain the shiver running just under my skin as Garret removes his gun from his waistband.
Garret nods at his associate and the two of them hold their bodies against the metal as they creep along the car. I twist around to see what spooked Dominic.
There’s nobody there.
Bang!
I jump as the gunshot rattles through the air.
Dominic opens the car door. “Get in,” he hisses. “The car is bulletproof and nobody can get in from the outside. Keep yourself safe.”
Does he want me safe?
I do as he asks.
I chew my lip when he takes his gun from underneath his jacket. In the passenger mirror, I watch the scene behind me.
Dominic slides along the car, back toward Garret, his gun ready to shoot.
My breath comes in quick gasps, and only when he is out of view and I’m alone with the darkness ahead—or is it freedom?—do I consider my options.
Die later?
Or run now?
I shudder, listening to the gunshots in the distance, knowing this battle is something I caused, and what that really means for me.
I only have one option, and that’s disappearing from Australia forever. And I still have an option waiting for me at the Gold Coast Airport tomorrow afternoon—HisPrincesswill fly me to London.
I pull on the handle of the car and step out onto the concrete in my stupid high heels. Time is not on my side. I take off my shoes, holding them in my hand as I dart toward the safety of darkness—the opposite direction from where Dom went.
“Ow,” I hiss at the sharp pain in my soles.
But I keep running, staying hidden alongside the parked cars. I can’t stop, even if my feet are shredded. I need to get away from him. Get away from here forever.
An engine comes to life behind me.
Shit!
I don’t look. I can’t look. I keep running.
