Chapter 3 3

Diego's POV

The first bullet had hit before I realized this wasn't a warning-it was war.

Gunfire cracked through the tiled walls, the mirror rattled, and Davina jumped back with a gasp, eyes wide with terror. I drew my gun, and she flinched like I was the threat.

"Don't be ridiculous," I snap. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"How the ever loving fuck am I supposed to know that?"

"For one, you're carrying my baby."

I grabbed her arm and yanked her into me. She stumbled, hit my chest, and shoved me hard, panic in every move.

"If you don't let me go right now, I'm gonna scream."

"No one's going to hear you."

Another shot-closer this time-and a man dropped dead in the hallway, twitching in a spreading pool of blood; Davina screamed, grabbed onto me, and just like that, all her fight vanished.

"Oh, God-my mom is out there. And Dad. And Carlotta!"

Carlotta. Right. I should have been with her. Today of all days, it made sense the Milanesis would strike. No one else would have been that bold.

And yet I was here.

I didn't have time to question why I was protecting the wrong sister. She was carrying my child. That was enough."

"Diego-my family!" she cries again.

"I'll make sure they're okay," I tell her. "Just stay behind me and do as I say."

"Why the hell are there guns?" Davina stammers. "Who are they? No-who the hell are you?"

I ignored her questions, and when my phone vibrated in my pocket, I grabbed it without thinking.

"Santo, where are you? Yeah, got it... No, I'm in the east corridor... I've got pickup. Come grab her so I can deal with this shit."

The moment I hung up, Davina fixed me with an offended glare. "Pickup?" she snapped.

"Now's not the time to be offended."

I peeked around the corner, spotted three Milanesi bastards, before I fired. Davina gasped behind me, but I dropped the other two and dragged her out.

"Y-you...killed them," she, strained against my hold

"They deserved to die."

I spotted movement towards us, so I spun, shoved Davina back, and put two rounds in the bastard's chest-he dropped without a sound. I stepped over his body, eyes locked on the kitchen exit, and moved.

"What the hell are you doing?" she yells as I dragged her toward the kitchen.

"I'm getting you out-whether you like it or not."

"I'm not leaving!" she protests. "My family's here."

Did she really thought I'd let her walk straight into open fire just to play hero? I was two seconds away from snapping at her to quit being an idiot when she suddenly screamed, "Watch out!"

I turned, but I was a second too late. Some idiot slammed into me from the side, knocking me off balance. My gun flew out of my grip and clattered down the hallway.

I rolled, sprang back to my feet, and faced him. "That was a stupid move," I growled and slammed a fist into his gut, watched him double over, then crushed his face with a right hook. I heard a bone crack as he let out a strangled scream that cut off halfway, dropping like a sack of meat. I didn't wait to see if he'd get up.

Davina was still frozen, eyes wide, looking like she might be sick. More gunshots rang out-three quick cracks-and she winced with each one.

Her gaze suddenly shifted over my shoulder.

I turned just as Elena stepped out from the garden, barefoot, her dress torn high up her thigh like she'd just sprinted through a rosebush. Two of my men flanked her, alert and armed.

"Santo said you've got pickup?" she asked, deadpan.

I nodded toward Davina. "Get her out of here."

She hesitated-but Davina didn't. She yanked herself out of my grasp and bolted.

"Davina!"

I lunged after her. She was fast-faster than I expected. She shoved past Elena, knocking her off balance, and sprinted back into the smoke-cloaked garden.

Snarling, I took off. Five strides and I caught her, my arm locking around her waist. She shrieked as I lifted her clean off the ground, her fists hammering against my back.

"Foolish girl," I muttered, dragging her behind cover.

She sagged into me, sobbing. I held her tighter, jaw clenched, heart hammering.

Elena caught up, breath ragged now, her men close behind. Her voice was calm but firm. "Give her to me."

I didn't move. My eyes scanned the chaos. Santo was still standing-his face torn and bleeding, but he was alive. Carlotta and her father? Nowhere to be found.

I held Davina closer.

Then Elena gasped. "You're bleeding."

The words punched through the noise.

I looked down, confused, until I followed her stare. Blood was trailing down Davina's legs, dark and thin, soaking the hem of her dress, dripping silently into the grass.

"W-what?" Her hands flew to her stomach, frantic and searching. "Did I get shot?"

"She's bleeding-but I don't see a wound," Elena said, scanning her quickly. "It's not from a bullet."

As if struck by a realization far more terrifying than a bullet wound, her breath hitched. She looked up at me, and the second our eyes met, my blood turned to ice.

"This can't be happening," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"What do you mean?"

Davina's fingers dug into my arm, her grip trembling. Her next words came out broken, choked, filled with a fear I had never heard from her before.

"I-I'm pregnant," she gasped. A sharp inhale, then a choked whimper as she doubled over slightly, her free hand pressing against her stomach. "And I think-I think I'm losing it."

For a second, everything else ceased to exist. The chaos, the blood, the lingering echoes of gunfire. All I could hear was her ragged breathing, feel the way her body swayed against mine. Then she winced, her entire body tensing as another wave of pain hit her.

"Diego!" Elena's sharp voice cut through my daze. "Let go of her! We need to get her to a doctor-fast!"

Davina let out a shaky breath, but it hitched midway, a strangled sound escaping her throat as she clutched at me.

"Diego-" Her voice was laced with agony now, and it sent panic crashing through me.

Only then did I realize my grip on her was too tight, my fingers digging in like she was the only thing keeping me from falling apart. Letting go took more effort than it should have. One of my men stepped forward and lifted her limp body over his shoulder. She whimpered, her face twisting in pain, before he turned and followed Elena through the garden's back exit.

I exhaled hard and bitter, then turned to Santo. He was covered in blood, his chest heaving, but he was alive.

"Where's Carlotta?" I asked, my voice low.

Santo lifted his head, his eyes dark. "They took her. And the old man too."

My chest tightened. "Did they leave a message?"

He hesitated, then reached into his coat and held something out to me.

"They said you'd understand."

I looked down at what lay in his hand.

It was Carlotta's engagement ring.

Stained with blood.