Chapter 7 - BLOOD IN THE RAIN
The shootout lasted less than two intense, agonizing minutes in the pouring rain.
I crouched under the leather seat, holding my breath as thunder clapped overhead alongside the gunshots.
When the firing finally stopped, the silence that followed was heavier than the noise.
Slowly, I pushed myself up and looked out through the shattered, bullet-riddled window.
Three of Moretti's hitmen lay motionless in the street, their blood washing away in the streaming gutters.
Carmine was standing over the last surviving shooter, who was crawling backward on the wet pavement.
Carmine didn't say a word; he simply pulled the trigger twice, ending the threat instantly.
He turned back toward the limousine, wiping water and blood from his cheek with the back of his sleeve.
He rushed over, reaching into the ruined car to pull me out into his arms.
"Are you hurt?" he demanded, his hands frantically checking my arms, shoulders, and head for wounds.
"I'm okay, I'm okay," I sobbed, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck, ignoring the smell of gunpowder on his coat.
He held me tightly against his chest in the middle of the empty, rain-soaked road.
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"We are at war now," Carmine whispered into my hair. "And I am going to end it."
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