Page 4 of Temptation
I take a quick glance backward at Maddy and Flynn.Shit. What am I going to do now?
I feel a surge of fear cursing through every fiber of my body, but I force myself to stand my ground.
There is no way I’ll let him lay a single finger on the children, even though I am completely out of my depth on how I am going to ensure that.
I am no match for him, not physically at least. And the chances are wearing thin that any staff members are still on the school premises, so calling out for help will most likely be fruitless. I take a step back, trying to put more distance between us. My mind races as I desperately try and come up with a plan.
“I certainly can’t do that. I need you to—” I say, fisting my hands at my side, trying to keep my voice firm. My heart pounds in my chest, echoing in my ears.
“Listen, lady, there’s no need for you to get hurt. Just get out of my way.” He takes a step closer, his eyes continuously flickering between the twins and me. There’s a growing impatience in his voice, a barely contained frustration.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I say, the words tumbling out of my mouth, the false bravery ringing hollow even to my own ears.
He lets out a low laugh, a cold sound that makes my skin crawl.
Two more steps, and he’s standing right in front of me, towering over me, and I have to crane my neck to meet his cold gaze.
“You’re making a big mistake,” he growls, and I know I am about to make an ever bigger one. I can feel my heart hammering against my ribcage, my breath coming in short gasps.
My gaze wanders to Maddy and Flynn for a moment. They are still frozen like statues, staring wide-eyed at the scene unfolding before them. Flynn has taken a protective stance in front of his sister, his little body squared as if ready to defend her from the danger. Maddy clings to his hand, her even smaller fingers wrapped tightly around his.
With one quick motion and before I can rethink my actions, I raise my arm and aim to punch him in the face. I put all my weight behind the blow, hoping to catch him off guard. He dodges my hit with ease, my fist slicing through empty air. When I pull my arm back, I grab for his mask, pulling it down and exposing at least part of his face.
“Stupid bitch,” he snarls, his face contorting with rage.
He grabs my arm in a vice-like grip and slams me into the wall. I feel a jolt of pain as my head connects with the hard surface, stars exploding in my vision.
“Ah.” I sink to the floor, breathing heavily. My head spins and as I try to push myself up, but a wave of dizziness forces me back down.
That gives him enough time to pull a gun from the back of his pants and aim it directly at me. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he hisses, his finger tightening on the trigger. His eyes are hard and deadly. And I can only sit there, staring at the barrel of the gun. Time slows.
But nothing happens.
Before he can pull the trigger, a commanding voice booms through the room.
“Drop the gun.”
Given my line of thought just minutes prior, I can’t believe that I let out a relieved breath when I see Fabrizio Moretti emergingin the doorway, his own gun steady and aimed at the man hovering above me.
Even as my gaze darts from the man who still aims his gun at me, his finger tightening ominously on the trigger, to the one I recognize instantly—thanks to the extensive search I did on the Moretti family—a flicker of relief sparks within my chest. The tension in my body slowly eases.
“I said—”
Suddenly my attacker grabs me by the hair, yanking me back to my feet and against his body. “And I say you drop yours, or I’ll shoot her,” he sneers, his hot breath against my ear. He presses the cold barrel of his gun against my temple, his finger tightening on the trigger while his other hand tightens the grip on my hair. Agony explodes through my scalp, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.
Through the haze of my hot tears, I see two more figures appearing behind Fabrizio. Even when he is outnumbered, the man doesn’t give up. Instead, he presses his gun harder against my temple.
“Leave, or I‘ll have no problem shooting her,” he spits, his voice venomous, laced with a deadly promise.
“Oliver, you heard the man. Take the children and leave.” One of Fabrizio Moretti’s companions steps forward and suddenly the children bolt toward him. Their sudden movement distracts the attacker for a split second.
His attention wavers for a moment and the grip he has on my hair loosens. Fueled by another surge of adrenaline, I jam my elbow into his stomach. He lets go of me as he staggers back, gasping for breath.
But he’s quick to recover from my blow. “Bitch,” he snarls as he smashes his gun against the side of my head.
I stagger back before landing hard on the floor.
And for a moment, everything around me goes black.
