Page 74 of Devious Roses

It’s empty. Which means…

I put down the revolver with visible relief easing the tension that’s coursed through me. Delphine’s no better. She releases a small sputter, which is her breath catching in her lungs, appearing as though she might faint any second.

“Your turn, Renzo,” I say. “The final shot.”

Renzo’s paled. He’s lost his color staring at the revolver then up at me. His men hover uncertainly, just as perplexed by this turn of events.

“Alright,” he says slowly. “That’s true. It is my turn. Except… you don’t realize what that means.”

“It’s your shot,” I snap, glaring. “You hold it up to your head and you pull the trigger as agreed. Those are the rules.”

“I call the shots. I make the rules. And I was never playing for myself, little boy. It was you versus her the entire time. You won. Which means she lost.”

“No. NO! DON’T YOU—NOOOO!” I scream as Renzo turns the revolver on Delphine and pulls the trigger.

Bang.

21

delphine

The gun goesoff before I can even understand it’s been pointed at me. That it’s firing the only bullet in the cylinder.

Salvatore roars and leaps up from his chair to block the shot. Renzo stares feverishly as the bullet speeds toward me. The guards rush in closer.

My heart moves faster than them all. Even faster than the bullet. It booms inside me with the erratic knowledge that I’m screwed. I’m as good as dead.

I don’t scream. I don’t make a sound. I sit in the chair, unable to react.

My world spins. The exposed brick walls of the loft feel like they’re shifting around me. Any sturdiness I felt in my chair slips away. My body leaves it, jerking backward at the blunt force of the hit.

I crash into the ground feeling like I’m a stranger inside myself. Sound has gone out and my vision’s fuzzy.

Nothing feels familiar. Nothing makes sense.

Seconds pass before pain catches up to me. An acute pressure that builds in my left shoulder. It’s unlike any other pain I’ve experienced before. It’s not a sharp stabbing sensation like the shrapnel I’d been impaled with in the past, and it isn’t like the sting of other injuries.

Rather, it’s as if I’ve been pounded by something heavy. Something extremely forceful and unstoppable has collided with me enough to do serious damage to the point where there’s a deep, crippling pressure in my shoulder.

Dully, as I blink through the fuzziness, I realize I’ve really been shot.

Warm blood spreads over my skin. The liquid feels slick and grotesque, like I’m bleeding enough to fill a river.

I’m distantly aware of the commotion going on around me, though no one else seems to be aware I’m awake. I grunt as my body shakes and sweats while I push myself up onto my elbows.

I’ve been shot. I’ve been shot.

The words keep repeating in my head. Along with the panic and pain, it’s deafening.

It takes me another long moment before I connect the dots… that the pressure in my shoulder means that’s where I was shot. That the bullet didn’t strike me elsewhere.

I’m alive.

But the pain persists, making me wince. I need medical attention. I need…

My vision begins clearing. The fogginess dissipates enough that my surroundings come crashing back down around me.

Salvatore and Renzo rolling on the floor with bloody fists colliding. The angry shouts and screams of four men as they do. Some from Salvatore and Renzo as they fight. The others from the guards aiming their weapons at the tangled pair and warning him to stand down or they’ll shoot.