It was like a deafening crack tore the night apart: Antonio's eyes went wide, and his hand loosened just enough for me to wrench free. My nostrils filled with the acrid scent of gunpowder combined with the metallic tang of the rain-soaked pavement.
I didn't stick around to see if I'd hit him. I ran.
My feet pounded against the earth, soaked shoes slipping precariously on the slick surface as adrenaline coursed through my veins. A grunt of pain, a crash of something-somebody-hitting the ground sounded behind me.
"Elena!" His voice cut through the storm like a blade, sharp with fury.
I forced myself to keep running, my breath hitched, my pulse some crazy jackhammer in my ears. Everything in me pleaded for me to turn around, but I knew better. Turning around was weakness. Turning around was death.
An alley as narrow as a throat yawned in front of me. Lined with Dumpsters and shadows, I ducked into its darkness, the cold, wet wall slapping against my back as I struggled to catch my breath. My fingers were shaking as I clenched my hand, still warm from the recoil, on the gun.
Did I hit him?
I squeezed my eyes shut. The image of his face seared itself in my brain. Shocked, furious, and-something else- something that I couldn't name. My heart squeezed with emotion that I could ill afford.
Antonio Moretti was the man I once loved more than anything in this world. Now he was the man I would destroy if I had to.
A low groan echoed from the mouth of the alley. My eyes snapped open, and my breath caught.
A shadow moved. He was coming.
I turned and sprinted deeper into the alley, my shoes splashing through filthy puddles. The gun felt heavy in my hand, a grim reminder of how far I had fallen.
This isn't who I am, I thought. I'm not a killer.
But that was a luxury that no longer applied. In the desperate struggle for survival, morals ceased to exist.
A chain-link fence appeared before me, and once-only once-I glanced backward, and my heart froze in midair. Antonio stood behind, clutches at his side, white shirtlet with stains of crimson oozing over. Eyes burned into my back, angry, wild, and more frightening-a resolved man.
"You think you can run from me, Elena?" It was more growl than words, low, lethal.
I gripped the fence and hoisted myself up. I was climbing with my fingers when I slipped on some smooth metal part. Behind, Antonio closed the distance, fast moving given the messed-up way he'd gotten himself.
"Don't make me hurt you," he threatened as his hand went toward my ankle.
"I'd rather die than go back to you!" I kicked out, my heel connecting with his hand. He cursed and I seized the moment to pull myself over the top.
I landed on the other side hard, the jolt shaking my bones, a sharp pain spearing through my knees. But I sprang to my feet, ignoring the throbbing ache.
Before me lay the night-the labyrinth of dark alleys, empty streets. Without a plan and destination, but with only one need-to run.
---
The memory of my last talk with Antonio was seared on my brain like a brand.
"Why?" I had whispered in that night, with my voice, trembling with heartache, "Why is this torture you inflict upon me?"
A cold smile twisted his lips then. "Love is weakness, Elena. A weakness I cannot afford."
---
I stumbled out into the street, my breath in ragged tears, my eyes blind with a mingling rain. A car horn shrieked as swerving headlight beams brushed me. The screeching of tires barely permeated my mind as onward I plunged in the raw compulsion born in me now.
Somewhere in my wake Antonio still came. He never would stop.
He always wins, a voice whispered in my brain. You can't beat him.
"No," I muttered fiercely. "Not this time.
I turned into another alley, darker, twisted. The underbelly of town, where blood paid for deals and loyalty was bought with fear.
A figure emerged from the darkness, tall and wide-shouldered. His face was shrouded, but the glint of a knife speared off the faint light.
"Lost, sweetheart?" His voice was a sneer.
I raised the gun without hesitation. "Back off."
He laughed—a low, mocking sound—but he didn't move closer. His eyes flicked behind me, and his smirk faded.
"Looks like you've got bigger problems," he muttered before slinking back into the darkness.
Slowly I turned, my heart thumping. Antonio stood at the mouth of the alley, his hand pressed to his side, blood seeping between his fingers. But his eyes—those dark, dangerous eyes—were locked on me.
You're not going to shoot me again," he said, calm and sure of it.
I was shaking, my hands trembling as I leveled the gun at his chest.
"Stay back."
"You can't do it," he whispered, one step closer. "You think you're strong, Elena, but you're not. You never were."
"Stop!" I shrieked, my finger jerking on the trigger.
"Oh, go ahead," he dared, that razor-edge smile spreading on his face. "Shoot. Finish what you started.
I blinked in the rain, my vision fuzzy with fury and fear. This man before me had torn apart my world, every piece shattered at his feet.
I squeezed the trigger.
Click.
I was out of bullets.
My heart stopped.
Antonio's smile grew even wider as he took a further step closer toward me. "Game over.
I swung the gun like a club, but he caught my wrist, twisting until the weapon fell to the ground with a clatter. Pain shot up my arm as he yanked me forward, his grip inescapable.
"You don't get to walk away from me," he growled, his voice dark with possession.
"I'll never be yours!" I spat, struggling against his hold.
"You already are." His hand tightened, jerking me closer. "You always were."
Lightning flashed, showing in his eyes the fury of the storm raging around us. It was nothing compared with the true tempest raging between us-love turned to hate, passion twisted into betrayal.
"I hate you," I whispered, tears mingling with rain.
He leaned in, his breath hot against my skin. "Hate me all you want. It won't save you."
And in that instant, another voice cut through the storm.
"Let her go."
We were both frozen.
Standing at the head of the alley was a man I hadn't seen in years-a ghost from my past, with eyes like ice and a heart made of steel.
"Damain!" I breathed.
Antonio's grip faltered, his eyes narrowing. "This isn't your fight."
Damain's eyes didn't budge. "It is now!" He Said.