Chapter 93

I don’t know how long I’m in the cooler, not really. I cried for hours, I know, and then somehow fell asleep – or went unconscious. I don’t really know what the best word is for that state. Just…out. Not in the world anymore.

But I’m ripped back into it the moment I hear the jangling of my padlock. My eyes go wide, and then I gasp at the bright light that floods into the cooler when the lid is lifted off of me. I flinch, and shout, trying to cover my face with my hands.

There’s no time, though, before Bruno grabs me by the arm, hauling me up and then over his shoulder. “Time to get up, little girl,” he growls, cruel. “Time for another little chat.”

I cry out then, knowing what’s coming for me, shaking my head as I hang upside down over his shoulder and am carried back to my chair. I beg, softly, a little unintelligible to be let go – insisting I don’t know anything.

But Bruno ignores me, hauling me off his shoulder and tossing me into my chair. I gasp in pain as the metal edge hits my back, but Bruno doesn’t care – he just turns away to someone else in the room, letting him know that he’s ready to begin.

When I look up towards the two men who start towards me, I realize that I don’t recognize either of them. That Bonetti isn’t even here yet – that they’re again going to “soften me up” – get me ready to spill my guts.

And it’s going to take so long that Bonetti hasn’t even bothered to come to the basement. Because it will be a waste of his time, sitting around, watching them beat the shit out of me.

I groan, my head falling forward as tears start to again slip from my eyes. I don’t even know where they come from – where I got the moisture for them. Nobody’s given me anything to eat or drink in…god, I don’t know how long.

But there’s no time to consider it before I’m hit, hard, over the head.

“Tell me!” Bruno shouts, the words ripping from him, “what the fuck did you do to Edward Marino!?”

I groan, trying to pull my thoughts together as I fall to the side, going to my knees beside my chair. Because they didn’t tie me up today. I slump to the side, my balance off-kilter, but I have no way to keep myself from falling to the ground with my hands still cuffed behind my back. I groan, and my face hits the floor, and I gasp for air as Bruno wraps his hand around my arm, starting to pull me up –

But then there’s a clatter at the stairs, and Bruno drops me. My eyes flutter open in time to see him spin towards the wooden staircase –

There’s no time for anything else as the sound of gunshots fills the air. I gasp again, not knowing what to do, and then I scream as Bruno stumbles back two steps and then trips over me, falling to the floor.

I scream again, trying to curl up, not knowing what at all to do as Bruno falls to the ground behind me and doesn’t move, his heavy legs draped over me. I’m frantic, fully panicked, wriggling and trying to get away from him –

But I’m trapped – trapped under him –

There are no more gunshots, just the sound of a single set of footsteps striding for me, for me –

I open my mouth to scream again, my eyes pressed shut –

“Iris!”

The voice that barks out makes me go still. My breath catches in my lungs as my eyes fly open and I turn my head as best I can to see Christian crouched above me, his eyes hard on mine.

I go completely still, my mind not processing this –

Because, I mean –

It’s impossible –

He doesn’t take his time to say anything else now that he’s stopped me from screaming, let me know that he’s here. Instead, he just shoves – hard – at Bruno’s legs, freeing my body. I don’t move, just stare – stare at my friend, at the gun in his hand, at the rough and efficient way he works.

When I’m free, Christian puts a hard hand beneath my arm and begins to haul me to my feet. My body is still rigid with shock, and he pulls hard, but he can’t quite get me up. His teeth gritted, Christian turns his face back to mine and stares me in the eyes.

“I need you to help me here, Iris,” he says, his voice tense and words snapping. “If you can stand, you need to stand. Because we have to get out of here. Fast.”

Something about that – about the sharp way he speaks, the urgency in his voice – brings me back to myself. Quickly, I nod, forcing my mind to work, to attach again to my body.

“Good,” Christian murmurs, almost passively, as he again begins to lift me by my arm, his head spinning back towards the door. I get my legs under me this time, getting to my feet, my heart starting to pound and my breath again coming short.

It has been, at most, twenty second since Christian came pounding down those stairs.

And as I start to hear noise above, I realize that it’s precisely enough time for anyone up there to realize that something’s gone wrong. I glance around, gaping at the sight of Bruno staring sightless at the ceiling, blood pooling around his head. And then at the other two men, likewise dead and bloodied -

“I need you to run,” Christian snaps, hauling my attention back to him as he pulls me with him towards the stairs – our only exit. “I’m going to run too, but you stay behind me, all right, Iris? Stay close, but keep with me. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I breathe, starting up the stairs after him, ready to take orders but wishing desperately that my hands weren’t cuffed behind my back anymore.

“Here we go!” he shouts, slamming his shoulder into the door at the top of the stairs and lifting his gun up, pulsing out a few bullets into his targets as he flies into the room above. I hear people shout, and scream, and bodies fall to the floor. But I grit my teeth and force myself to not think about it – to just keep my eyes on Christian, and to do as he says, following close behind.

He’s efficient – more efficient and capable than I’ve seen him yet. Christian turns away from the door and – as he promised – he runs. I gasp for air, keeping up with him as we move through the house. At every entrance to a new room Christian fires again, his bullets meeting their targets every time. I hear a little bit of returned fire but it doesn’t hit me – or him – and we go.

We’re bursting out of the front of the house before I thought it was possible and then Christian’s grabbing my arm, screaming at me to run, dragging me with him as we bolt for the black SUV in front of us, its engine still humming, its driver’s side door hanging open.

Bullets whiz in the air around us, behind us, and I’m panting with fear as Christian leaves my side and runs around the car to the driver’s side, as I haul the passenger door open and throw myself inside.