Chapter 34 · Family Matters

The red laser burned against my forehead like a hot fingertip.

I didn't scream. Couldn't. Plaster dust coated my teeth, my ears shrieked from the last blast, and every muscle I owned had locked rigid.

Across the black lake, a man I'd never met had me dialed into his crosshairs. Somewhere closer, my uncle was probably grinning.

"Lucia."

Dante’s voice. Low. Dead calm. Like we were arguing over what to order for breakfast.

"Don't move," he said.

"Wasn't planning on it."

"Good girl."

God, I wanted to hit him. Almost. Then his eyes flicked toward the fractured glass, calculating the angle. Distance. Wind drift. Exactly how many fractions of a second a rifleman needed to squeeze.

"Dante, don't you dare—"

He hit me.

Not a tackle. A full-body slam. His shoulder drove into my ribs, his heavy forearm wrapped around the back of my skull, and we hit the marble floor hard. The rifle cracked a split-second late—flat, ugly, echoing through the shattered room—and something wet sprayed across my cheek.

Warm. Way too warm.

He grunted into my hairline. Just once. A short, tight sound, like somebody had stepped on his foot.

"Dante?"

Nothing. His dead weight collapsed over me.