Page 195 of Obsessed by My Ex's Mafia Uncle
She clings to me immediately, little fingers digging painfully into my shoulders.
Gunshots explode louder again. It's close enough that Blue screams and buries her face into my neck.
“Move.” Robert turns toward the guards, barking orders.
Everything after that blurs into motion.
The hallway outside is flooded with men now.
Armed guards surround us in a moving circle while Robert walks ahead shirtless, gun raised, blood streaked across one side of his abdomen from somebody else’s handprint.
My pulse is too loud.
“Christine.” Aisha appears from another corridor wearing pajama shorts and a hoodie thrown on inside out, panic engraved into her face.
She reaches us breathless, immediately gripping my elbow while her eyes dart wildly toward the sound of gunfire downstairs.
“What the hell is happening?”
Nobody answers because another body suddenly crashes against the wall at the end of the hallway, blood pouring from its throat.
And before I can even process the sight, Robert fires, the gunshot detonating through the corridor.
A man I didn’t even see drops instantly near the staircase.
Blue screams harder in my arms.
“Eyes on me, baby.” I choke out quickly, pressing her face harder into my neck. “Look at me, okay? Don’t look anywhere else.”
My own body is shaking so badly I can barely feel my knees.
More guards surge around us.
“Keep moving!” Somebody shouts.
Robert grabs my wrist suddenly, dragging me forward just as bullets tear through the wall behind us.
Robert fires back twice without even slowing down and two more bodies hit the floor.
Everything smells like smoke now.
We rush down another corridor while guards close ranks around us, guns raised in every direction.
Robert doesn’t stop moving until we hit the west wing.
He reaches the end of the corridor and slams his palm against a hidden panel beside the wall and a keypad slides out.
His gun stays raised in one hand while the other types rapidly.
The guards around us form a defensive barricade instantly.
Footsteps thunder toward us and they all swing their guns up at once as a figure stumbles around the corner.
It's Atelia.
She’s covered in blood, dark streaks soaking through her black tank top, dripping down one arm while she clutches two guns in shaking hands.
“Ate…” Aisha gasps.
