AYLA
I hadn't expected Don Cassian to come for me, just like I hadn't expected Vittorio to pull the trigger either.
But everything had happened so fast, and I felt like I was in the middle of the ocean drowning and somehow managed to still breathe.
"Fuck!" I heard Don Cassian cuss as warm liquid rolled down my sides into the seat.
I dragged in shallow breaths and forced my eyes open. His hands looked red, like they'd been soaked in red wine—except this red wine was actually my blood.
He pressed his hands against my side with his suit jacket.
I knew I was bleeding, but I couldn't understand why I wasn't feeling any pain from the bullet wound.
Was it what it felt like to have a near death experience? Maybe.
And wasn't that suit jacket expensive?
I didn't want any bills on my name if I got out of this shit alive.
I sighed.
I wanted to sleep—I needed to. I tried to move my hands, but I couldn't feel them yet. It felt like I didn't have them anymore.
