Mafiosa (Blood for Blood #3)(53)

Another gunshot, and one thought pounded out all the others as I slipped through the double doors at the far end of the dance floor, and into the bowels of the school: Luca.

Here, there was only darkness. Darkness, and shouting, and hurried footsteps echoing down endless corridors filled with lockers.

‘Give it up, Falcone!’ Zola Marino’s voice was higher than I expected, her words marked with a strange cadence that reminded me of her sister, Sara. ‘Surrender and I’ll let you die quickly!’

I slipped my shoes off and kept to the side of the corridor, inching along the lockers and following Zola’s taunts. If she was scared, I couldn’t detect it.

‘Why don’t you save me the trouble and just shoot yourself, Zola?’ Luca’s response was deadly calm. He wasn’t injured, despite all the shooting. Relief rippled through me, but it was short-lived.

Another gunshot rang out.

‘Come out, come out, wherever you are!’ Zola cooed. The shot had shattered the CCTV camera just around the corner from me. It fell in shards just yards from my feet. I was close. ‘You look so shiny in your tux, Gianluca. My mother would love to brand her black hand on it. Right after she’s done with your little plaything, of course. She’s probably cutting her fingers off right now.’

‘You’re a bad liar, Zola! Always were!’ Luca’s laughter echoed down the corridor, but it was strained and forced.

Zola was getting angrier, her composure slipping. ‘You won’t be laughing when I put a bullet in your head! I know you’re cornered down there.’

Zola was right. I could tell she was closer to me. Luca was at the other end of the hallway – a dead end, and there was only so many rows of lockers that could protect him. He couldn’t come out. Not before the police or Zola closed in on him. The only options were to crouch and hide, or to try and shoot his way through.

‘Nothing else to say?’ Zola goaded. ‘Are you worried about your jewel? My mother won’t be quick with her. She wants to bring her home, take her time.’ Another gunshot. Zola cursed. ‘My fucking foot.’

I edged closer, heels in hand as I peeked around the corner. Zola was limping down the corridor, half of her dipping towards the floor, her suit jacket hanging off one shoulder. She was moving away from me, leaving a track of blood behind her. She was shooting indiscriminately at where Luca was hiding.

Luca rolled out of the space between the last locker and the wall, and they shot at each other at the same time. Luca cursed, tried to shoot again, but the click echoed down the hallway. There were no more bullets in his gun. Zola fell to the side, reloading in a blur, and when she raised her gun at Luca, I knew it would be the last thing Luca ever saw. I started running, my arm pulled back, and fired my stiletto through the air, straight into the side of Zola Marino’s skull. She warped sideways, flinching, and the shot meant for Luca careened into the wall.

I slammed the other heel into the side of Zola’s head, kicking out the backs of her knees at the same time. She whirled on me, blocking my view of Luca. We tumbled to the ground together, Zola’s gun pulsing jet black in my periphery, her fingers grappling for my throat.

Just as the distant sound of sirens cut across the deserted hallway, she grabbed me by the neck and rolled on top of me. She bared her teeth, her tongue peeking out between them. I pushed my fingers into her eyes, grabbing my shoe with the other hand. The glitter on her lips helped me focus on my target.

‘Here’s your jewel,’ I yelled, slamming my shoe into her face and hearing the bones in her nose crushing underneath it.

She lurched to the side, her gun held high, and then the sharp sound of a gunshot slammed into my eardrums, and for a split second I felt searing hot all over.

I keeled over, clutching at the pain lancing through my body, trying to find the source, trying to focus my thoughts.

My shoulder was on fire.

Luca yanked Zola backwards and pistol-whipped her in the side of the head. Her next shot lodged in the ceiling. Luca wrestled the gun from her and threw it sidelong towards the other end of the hallway. It clanged off a locker and skittered from my view.

Zola groaned, and Luca hit her again, the crushing sound of metal on bone reverberating around us. She slumped over, unconscious.

The blood was pooling from my left shoulder, leaving a river of warmth all the way down my arm. ‘Luca,’ I said, hearing the fear colour my voice. ‘She shot me. I’ve been shot.’

‘Cazzo!’ He hunkered down and traced his finger around the wound, pulling my arm towards him. I cried out and he flinched. ‘Sorry,’ he murmured, examining it in the darkness. He shuttered his expression. I could almost pinpoint the moment he slipped back into commander mode, and for once I was glad of it. If we were going to get out of here unscathed, one of us had to have our wits about us.

‘There’s no bullet inside the skin.’

‘It hurts.’ I gasped a shallow breath. ‘Why does it hurt so much?’

‘A graze,’ he said, his eyes tracking the streams of blood on my arm. ‘A bad one. I’m taking you to the hospital.’

‘No!’ I hissed, struggling to right myself. ‘I’m not going anywhere near a hospital.’

He pulled me up on to my feet using my good arm, holding me steady at the waist. ‘Can you walk?’ he asked, urgency flashing across his face. The sirens were piercingly loud now. ‘Do you think you can walk out?’