Luca (Hunting Her)

by Eden Summers

A fucking flash-bang.

  The noise is deafening. The resulting shriek inside my skull is torture.

  I land in a heap at the foot of the stairs as Decker fumbles beside me.

  I can’t see.

  Can’t think.

  Can’t stand.

  I’m on my hands and knees, my stomach revolting with nausea, my nose wet with an accompanying scent of blood, my brain squeezed in a life-threatening vise.

  There’s nothing but static and agony as I fail numerous attempts to get onto my feet only to land on my ass when something hard presses into my skull through the darkness.

  “Long time, no see, Luca,” Robert greets. “Now, tell me, which one of you wants to die first?”

  32

  Penny

  I scream, rattling the chair I’m bound to, yanking my arms against the rope knotted behind me.

  The blast had rocked the house, the loud boom hitting me in the chest while a bright burst of light exploded down the hall. I’d initially thought it was an attack strategy from Luca, but Robert’s henchman standing guard at the door to the kitchen didn’t show any shock at the eruption.

  In fact, he’s smiling, pleased with himself.

  I scream again, longer and louder, using the noise to disguise the grind of my cuff blade against the rope.

  “Shut up and quit struggling,” he shouts. “Or I’ll hit you again.”

  I ignore him, letting out another throat-piercing shriek as I pull and tug and slash.

  “Nobody’s coming to save you now, bitch. We came prepared.” He points his gun toward me, shooting another glance down the hall. “Things are about to get wild.”

  He’s young. Probably my age. Mid-twenties, with a thirst for blood if the excitement in his eyes is any indication.

  “You expect me to listen to you?” I spit. “You’re nothing. Nobody.” I saw at the ropes, making my hand cramp from exertion, until the restriction at my wrist begins to loosen. I push harder, cut faster, then scream again, this time in pain when the blade slices through skin.

  The warmth of blood trickles over my palm as the asshole storms toward me to slap a meaty palm across my cheek. “Shut. The fuck. Up.”

  My head flings to the side, the impact blazing across my face, reawakening the throbbing injuries from earlier. The violent jerk of my shoulders frees my right wrist, the blade still tightly clutched in my palm.

  I gasp. Not in pain.

  It’s energy. Electricity.

  I snatch for the ends of the rope, making sure they don’t fall to the floor and expose my partial freedom as I return my attention to my tormentor. “Fuck you, you weak piece of shit.”

  He smirks, levelling his gun on my chest. “Fuck me?”

  Air congeals in my lungs, the pressure building. I can already anticipate the impact of the bullet. It’s right there, demanding me to keep my mouth shut.

  The need to distract him pushes me to take the risk. I refuse to let Luca jeopardize his life to save me again.

  “You won’t shoot. You can’t,” I correct. “If you kill me, Robert will do the same to you.”

  “I’m getting to a point where I’m willing to find out.” He leans closer, getting in my face. “So either shut your fucking mouth or I’m putting a bullet in your head.”

  I drop the rope. Swing my free arm. Aim the blade for his throat.

  The metal nicks skin, the contact barely penetrating before he lashes out, pushing me away to send me toppling backward in the chair. I hit the tile hard, the blade escaping my grasp, my left arm painfully restricted behind me.

  I scramble with my free hand for my weapon, fumbling it between my stretched fingers as I tug to loosen my trapped wrist. I raise the blade in defense, but I’m not under attack. Robert’s thug backtracks, a hand clamped over his throat while his other trembles with the pointed gun.

  He stares at me in shock, lips parted, eyes wide as blood seeps between the fingers on his neck, the drops of crimson falling one by one onto his white shirt.

  I roll from the chair, my wrist still trapped in rope, and frantically saw at the binding. My heart hammers. My breathing stutters. He’s going to shoot me.

  “You’re losing a lot of blood.” I tug and tug at the chair. “You need to get to a hospital.”

  “Sh-shut up.” He releases his throat to inspect his hand, sending a deluge of gore down his neck.

  I gasp. It’s bad. That small nick must have hit his carotid because the amount of liquid is extensive. That motherfucker is going to die. Fast.

  I huff out a breath, the thrill of victory giving me a vibrating sense of hope.

  “Fuck you.” He jabs the gun in my direction as I keep sawing. “You stupid c-cunt.” He stumbles into the kitchen counter, the weapon tumbling from his hand, his legs collapsing beneath him.

  I tug at my bindings, the final length of rope loosening enough for me to yank my arm free. I’m on my feet in an instant and running for his gun. I fall to my knees and slide, snatching the barrel. But he doesn’t fight back. He spreads out on the floor, blinking sightlessly at me, his mouth moving without words.

  Holy shit. He’s done for, the pool of blood building around him.

  I point the barrel at his head, my finger twitching against the trigger.

  “B-bitch,” he chokes, his grip uncurling around his throat. “F-fuck you.”

  I watch the life seep from him as I sheath my blade in the cuff. I wait precious moments, making sure he doesn’t experience a resurgence of energy before I make for the hall, ignoring the putrid smell to stop at an open door leading into darkness.

  Grunts and groans carry from inside. Indecipherable muttered words, too.

  “Shed some fucking light, Greg,” Robert snaps. “I can’t see dick down here.”

  I freeze, caught like a deer in headlights.

  “Ahh, so it’s not Greg,” he muses. “Is that you, my pretty Penny?”

  He’s in control, the excitement in his voice fueling my fear.

  “I think you’re going to want to see this,” Robert drawls. “The switch is right near the door.”

  “Penny, run.”

  Sebastian? He’s here?

  My knees weaken.

  “Now, Penny,” Robert snarls. “Before I lose patience.”

  There’s a groan of pain, then another growled demand to, “Just run.”

  My vision blurs under the burn of tears. My heart squeezes. “Luca, are you here?”

  “Run.” He answers me, the word grated in agony. “Get out of here, shorty.”

  I can’t.

  I won’t.

  Oh, God.

  He never left me to fend for myself. I would rather die than turn my back on him and the gun trembling in my hand could change everything. I could kill Robert. I could save Luca.

  My limbs shake as I reach inside, sliding my hand along the wall to flick on the light. I quickly slip back out of view, careful to remain hidden as I glimpse down at the staircase illuminated before me and a vacant corner of the room below.

  I can’t see them. Not any of them.

  There’s only the sense of horror lurking close.

  “Come join us,” Robert coos. “You already know you’re safe. It’s your loved ones who may not last the night.”

  I plaster myself against the wall, unsure what to do.

  I don’t have a phone. And I can’t risk leaving them, even momentarily, to search for help.

  I steel myself against what I’m about to see and descend the stairs, the gun raised.

  The room comes into view gradually.

  I notice Sebastian first, his tense frame facing me. Then there’s Robert a few feet behind, a weapon held in both hands, with another down the front of his pants. He has one barrel trained on the back of Sebastian’s head, the other arm pointed farther away.

  “What did he do to you?” my brother snarls. “What the fuck did he do?”

  “Don’t worry.” Adrenaline has masked my pain. “I’m okay.”

  I
take another step, my heart lodging in my throat at the sight of Luca on his knees a yard behind, his face pale, his eyes filling with regret.

  “Get out of here, Pen.” He can barely keep his head up. “I need you to run.”

  “Drop the gun.” Robert advances on my brother.

  “No.” I aim it at my enemy’s head, the weapon shaking in my fragile grip.

  “You can’t kill me, baby. I’ve told you before I’ve got the sweetest fucking leverage known to man. You’re gonna want to know what it is before you pull the trigger.”

  “Then tell me.”

  He laughs. “In time. Now don’t make me count. I’m growing impatient.” He cocks a brow, waiting one tense second, then another. “Fine, have it your way.” He lowers the barrel, aiming at Sebastian’s thigh, then pulls the trigger.

  The gunshot blasts the air, ripping a scream from my throat.

  Sebastian roars, falling to the floor and curling onto his side, desperately clutching at his right thigh. Luca falls, too, clasping his head, his face burying into the carpet.

  I choke on a sob, the sight of their suffering far more punishing than any horror Luther ever inflicted.

  “Penny, get the hell out of here. Now.” Sebastian struggles to get back up. “Run.”

  “Fucking run.” Luca lashes out, the futile swipe of his arm knocking him off balance.

  “Or you could drop the gun.” Robert smirks. “You already know you’re not going anywhere.”

  He’s right.

  My heart is in this room.

  Slowly, I place the weapon on the step at my feet, my eyes blazing.

  “Good girl. Now come down here and join us.”

  “Don’t do it.” Luca pushes onto his hands and knees. “Please, Penny.”

  I don’t think I’ve heard his desperation before.

  He’s scared, and I can’t stand his fear. It rips me apart in the most agonizing torture.

  “It’s okay.” I suck in a breath, blink away the threat of tears, and descend the stairs. “Robert doesn’t want to kill me.”

  “Don’t.” Sebastian battles to get to his feet, hissing and wincing as he grabs at his injured leg. His black suit pants cling around the bullet wound, the blood seeping onto his boot, then the floor. “Get out of here.”

  No. This is my domain. I know this monster better than they do. Neither of them stand a chance without me, and I refuse to live in a world without them. So we’re in this together.

  Live or die.

  “She was never going to leave,” Robert taunts. “She can’t walk away from those in need. She wants to be the savior, but like always, she’s the cause of the bloodshed. She was responsible for the death of hundreds of women through my pure frustration. Weren’t you, my sweet?”

  I fight against the penetrating words, refusing to let them sink in as I reach the bottom of the stairs.

  “If you would’ve stopped manipulating Luther and become like every other slave, many lives would’ve been saved,” he continues. “But you had to be better than everyone, didn’t you?

  “They still would’ve been used and discarded,” I whisper. “The only difference is that I would’ve joined them.”

  I return my attention to Luca, a knife twisting in my gut at the sight of his ashen skin. He’s hurting, badly, but I can’t see an injury. “What did he do to you?”

  “Forget about me.” He sits back on his haunches. “Save yourself.”

  “It’s time to hurry this along, pretty Penny. We don’t have all night.” Robert inches closer, his guns trained on the back of Luca and Sebastian’s heads. “We’re going to play a game. One where you get to choose which one of them lives and which one dies.”

  More sobs clog my throat, the building sorrow tattooing my heart. “You’ll kill them both no matter what I do.”

  “I promise I won’t. You know why?”

  I shake my head.

  He smirks. “Because watching you live with the guilt for the rest of your life will be fucking bliss.”

  This time the torment escapes, the agony parting my lips. I sob, believing him. He’s sick enough to follow through.

  “Decide,” he taunts. “The brother or the lover.”

  My lips tremble. Everything does. I can barely think over the shuddering rack of my body.

  “It’s okay, shorty.” Luca hunches over, his hands on his knees, his forgiving eyes on mine. “You know the right choice. You need him more than me.”

  “Don’t pull that bullshit,” Sebastian mutters.

  “How honorable.” Robert jams his gun into the back of Luca’s head. “Make your choice or I’ll do it for you.”

  “Wait. Stop,” I beg. “I’ll decide. Just give me a minute.”

  I need more time. I can’t do this.

  “Don’t leave me hanging,” he growls. “Fucking tell me.”

  I glance from my brother to Luca, knowing there’s only one choice.

  It hurts. Oh, God, how it hurts but there’s no other way.

  Someone has to die.

  “Penny,” Robert growls.

  My pulse becomes a staccato, the thunder pounding in my ears. “I choose…” I can’t say it. Can’t get the words out.

  He snickers, loving every moment of my struggle.

  “Run, Penny,” Luca roars. “Just fucking run.”

  I raise my chin, strengthened by the reminder of his salvation. He’s always been my shield. My lifeline.

  No matter how much this hurts, I’m indebted to return the favor.

  I turn my attention to Sebastian, hoping he understands my heartache—the gut-wrenching agony—as I cement my choice. He smiles at me in return. A pained, yet comforting smile forever etched in my mind.

  Then I divert my gaze to the monster, swallowing over the agonizing dryness of my throat as I start toward him. “I choose me.”

  33

  Luca

  My heart drops as she breaks into a run.

  I can barely hold my head up, even struggle to see, but she’s clear before me, her determination obvious as she sprints to take her own life.

  I pivot on my toes, swaying with the movement and lunge, diving for Robert’s legs. Gunfire pummels my ears, the double shots striking fear in my veins as I take the motherfucker to the ground.

  Penny screams. It’s all I hear, the high pitch, the terror.

  I climb on top of my blurred opponent, swinging my fists at the darkening obscurity of his body, sometimes connecting with hardened flesh, other times with empty air.

  More screams ring out. Pain lashes at my face. My head fills with pandemonium. The only notable thought I’m capable of holding revolves around Penny’s safety as knuckles punch into my cheek, my jaw.

  She can’t be taken. Can’t die.

  Not by him.

  Decker yells something about a gun, but I struggle to make out the words. I don’t care anymore. Not about my life or my pain. Nothing matters except Penny’s safety as I search blindly for this fucker’s throat, latching on with both hands to squeeze with all my strength.

  The impacts to my face increase. My consciousness fades.

  I close my eyes against the vertigo.

  Clutch harder.

  Pray.

  I roar with the effort of staying alive, fingers clawing at my skin, Robert bucking beneath me.

  “I said, I’ve got a fucking gun,” Decker yells.

  I don’t let go.

  One more burst of gunfire and I’m as good as dead anyway. My brain can’t take anymore. I keep squeezing, harder and harder, until the punches lose their strength and the bucking stops. It’s then that I open my eyes, the double vision making it hard to distinguish if the fight-less asshole beneath me is dead or bluffing.

  I squint. Lean forward. Blink and blink.

  He wheezes, still dragging in breath.

  I’m about to swing a heavy punch at his face when Penny dives to her knees beside me, shouting a war cry as she stabs a blade into his throat. She doesn’t paus
e after one attempt. She repeats the severity over and over, continuing to yell her lungs out with every puncture of skin.

  I slide off of him, falling onto my ass like a pile of garbage.

  Despite the horror, the clarity of her is a fucking sight to behold.

  She’s fierce.

  Strong.

  So fucking beautiful.

  My head continues to swim as I struggle to my feet, my body swaying. I attempt to right the sudden lurch of movement, stumbling backward, but it’s no use. I’m completely fucked, unable to stand straight.

  “Luca?” Decker’s voice calls over the static. “Luc?”

  I blink and blink, getting obscure snapshots of him grabbing Penny’s arm to drag her away from mindless destruction.

  He’ll protect her.

  He’ll do what’s right.

  I bump into something. A desk. A box. I don’t fucking know, but it sends shit scattering around my feet.

  “Luca?” Her voice is pained as she turns to me.

  I want to be strong for her, but there’s no fucking strength anymore. I can barely keep my head up as I plant my feet, willing my sea legs away.

  She rushes forward, those dark eyes taking over my vision. “You need to get to a hospital.” She cups my cheeks, the warmth of gentle hands slowing the world’s spin just a little.

  “We don’t do hospitals.” I kiss her forehead. “You be strong, okay? Don’t take shit from anyone.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” Her face turns stark, the brief glimpses of clarity cutting me to my core.

  “Take care of yourself.”

  “Stop it.” She increases the pressure of her palms. “Look at me.”

  I’m trying. But everything is heavy. My head. My hands. My feet.

  “Focus,” she pleads. “Look at me.”

  Decker comes up beside her, his frame no more than a sickening blur. “How bad is your head?”

  I huff out a laugh, my sardonic humor only making the sway worse. “It’s nothin’.” My words are slurred, my tongue thick.

  “Come on.” Decker limps close, sliding an arm around my back. “We’ll get you to the car.”

  He’s got no hope. Even without a bullet in his leg he wouldn’t be able to budge me. And it sure as shit doesn’t help when my face starts diving for the floor.