Page 118 of When She Tempts (The Fallen)
“Get away from there,” I cry out.
She must pick up on the desperation in my voice, because she listens. She hops back down and runs up to me. The poor dog. How long did she spend locked in here with them, confused about why Tommaso wasn’t answering her?
My heart falls to pieces.
Polo spent two years with them at the castello, working side by side with them, sharing meals, laughter, stories. How could he do this? Did they see him right before he did it? Did their eyes flash with confusion when they saw him lift his knife?
Bile slicks the back of my throat, and I press my palm to my mouth, but I can’t hold it back. I vomit in the corner.
Over the sound of my own retching, I hear something crash in the living room below, and it snaps me into action. I wipe my mouth with the back of my sleeve, slam the door to the bedroom shut, and push a heavy desk against it.
That will hold Polo, but not for long.
I need something to knock him out.
But there’s nothing remotely resembling a weapon in this bedroom. I rush over to the closet and start digging through the shelves. Clothes, jewelry, more clothes.Crap!
Dropping to the ground, I pull out a random cardboard box just as Polo wiggles the doorknob.
“Come out of there, Martina,” he shouts. “You’re wasting time.”
I throw the lid off the box, hoping this is exactly the kind of place Tommaso may have stashed a gun, but my chest falls when I see the contents. It’s a set of new bathroom accessories—hooks, a small round mirror, and a long towel rack.
There’s a loud thud and then a sharp squeal. Polo’s moving the desk. I don’t have time to look for anything else.
I grab the iron towel rack. It’s heavy. I can swing it at him.
Getting into position at the side of the door, I wait while Polo continues trying to get inside. Let him exert himself.
It’s the scariest few moments of my life.
My heart ricochets inside my chest as I count down the seconds. Sophia’s not barking anymore, she’s pressed up to my leg, hiding behind me. Tears spring to my eyes, but I wipe them off with my sleeve and keep my focus on the door.
Gio didn’t teach me how to hurt people. He’s only ever taught me how to defend myself.
But that’s what I’m doing now, isn’t it? I flick my gaze to the bodies on the bed and feel a sharp spike of anger.
Howdarehe?
I hold my breath as Polo finally starts squeezing through the crack in the door.
I lift the towel bar and swing.
The blow lands, but it doesn’t have the effect I hoped it would. Instead of tumbling to the ground, he simply stumbles a few steps before whirling around and advancing on me. His eyes are so wide, I can see the entirety of his irises.
Blood drips down his forehead as he steps closer and closer. His mouth curves into a terrifying smile. “Got you,” he whispers.
Then everything happens very quickly. There’s a blur of fur, and a flash of sharp white teeth. Sophia bites into Polo’s calf, and he lets out a bloodcurdling scream. He tries to kick her off, but I’m on him, pelting him with the towel bar. I don’t stop until he falls to the ground.
“Sophia, let’s go!”
I leap over Polo, tumble down the stairs, and sprint out of the house toward the yard. I manage to put some distance between us, and that’s when I suddenly realize I have my phone in my back pocket. In my panic, I forgot it was there.Stupid!I take it out and dial Giorgio.
He picks up on the second ring. “What is it?”
The sound of his voice works an uncontrollable sob out of me. “Gio.”
“Piccolina? What’s going on?”
