Chapter Seven: The Daughter He Shot
Matteo seized on the ballroom floor.
Skylar tore open an emergency kit with bloody hands.
“Atropine.”
A guard stared.
“Now.”
He moved.
Dominic braced himself against the overturned table, one hand pressed to his ribs. His face had gone gray.
Skylar saw him.
She could not go to him yet.
Matteo would die first.
She injected atropine. Then diazepam. Then ordered oxygen and lipid emulsion from the private clinic suite.
His limbs jerked.
Slowed.
Stopped.
Pulse returned beneath her fingers.
Weak.
But there.
Skylar exhaled once.
Then the ballroom doors opened.
Bianca Moretti stood there.
Black coat. Loose hair. One arm wrapped across her ribs. A gun shook in both hands.
Her eyes found Dominic.
Then Skylar.
“Get away from him.”
Skylar stayed kneeling beside Matteo.
“No.”
Bianca laughed.
It broke halfway.
“You always say that.”
Rossi guns lifted.
Bianca did not seem to notice.
“My father said you ruined everything.”
Dominic’s voice was faint.
“Your father left you.”
“No.”
“He ran.”
“No.”
Skylar stood slowly.
“Bianca.”
The gun shifted toward her.
“Do not say my name.”
“He used you.”
Bianca’s mouth trembled.
“He made me strong.”
“He made you useful.”
That landed.
Bianca looked around the room.
No Lorenzo beside her.
No rescue.
No father.
Only men using her as a reason to keep killing.
Her gun lowered a fraction.
Then a shot came from the balcony stairs.
Bianca cried out and fell.
Blood spread across her shoulder.
Lorenzo stood half-hidden behind the damaged chandelier, pistol smoking.
He had shot his own daughter to clear his line.
The room went silent for one impossible second.
Bianca looked at the blood on her hand.
Then at her father.
“Papa?”
Lorenzo did not look at her.
He aimed at Dominic again.
Something in Bianca’s face died.
Skylar grabbed her fallen gun and kicked it away before anyone else could reach it. Rossi men surged toward the stairs and dragged Lorenzo behind the crystal wreckage.
Bianca lay on the marble, shaking.
Dominic stared at her.
Cold.
Unmoved.
Skylar moved first.
“She is bleeding.”
“She tried to kill you.”
“She is bleeding.”
Skylar pressed cloth to Bianca’s shoulder.
Bianca sobbed once, small and shocked.
“He shot me.”
Skylar tied pressure around the wound.
“Yes.”
“He did not even look.”
“No.”
Bianca’s eyes met hers.
The hatred was gone.
What remained was worse.
Emptiness.
Skylar leaned close.
“Do you want to live?”
Bianca swallowed.
“Yes.”
“Then stop being his weapon.”
Across the room, Dominic collapsed.
The sound ripped Skylar away from Bianca.
She ran to him.
His blood covered her red dress before she reached his side.
“Don’t you dare,” she whispered.
His eyes opened halfway.
“Still mean.”
“Still alive.”
He tried to smile.
Failed.
That frightened her more than the blood.
