Inferno (Page 35)

I could make out Millie through the crowds, fighting towards me. ‘We should go,’ she shouted, pushing her way closer. ‘Something’s going on.’

Jack was there in a flash, blocking my immediate exit. ‘Sophie, I know it’s not an ideal situation but there’s a lot of money at stake. If we could just sit down and talk about all of this … Your dad would want me to help you. He would want me to keep you safe.’

‘You’re the one putting me in danger.’ I stumbled backwards, into the crowds. They were closing in, stifling me.

Something struck me in the back and I crashed nose first into my uncle’s chest. Razor Grin and Eric Cain were at his sides, shouting, pulling him away from me. But Jack was fighting them. He was shouting too, his face turning crimson with fresh rage. ‘How could you betray me? How could you do this to us?’ It took me an extra second to realize it was me he was yelling at. But I hadn’t done anything. I faltered backwards, away from his huddle, sinking into a scrap of shoving bodies.

I could hear Millie screaming, but there were other people shouting too – male voices. Voices I recognized. I was pulled backwards. Bodies pressed against me. I fell against someone, thumping the back of my head. A shoe clipped my ankle and I lost my footing, my heels giving way beneath me.

It all happened in a matter of seconds. I landed with a thump that knocked the wind out of my lungs, and then Nic appeared, circling above me. He lunged at Eric Cain, who was a flash of darting red hair and pale skin. Nic grabbed him by the throat and yanked him downwards, cracking his knee straight into his face. I could almost hear Eric’s nose smash into pieces as he crumpled to the ground. Nic hurled his foot into his back, the force of the kick bending his body like an S. He slammed into him again and Eric’s slim frame contorted and writhed out of view. He pulled his knife out. Vaguely stunned and winded, I thought, I am about to witness Nic murdering someone.

Jack sprang up, and Nic’s attention snapped in two. He arced to the left and disappeared into a sea of faceless people, chasing my uncle. Felice Falcone’s voice rang in my ears. He was somewhere close by, yelling instructions, calm against the storm. I scrabbled on the floor, my heels sliding as I tried to get up. Someone was brandishing a gun above me and I dipped backwards, cowering on the ground.

The crowds swelled until there was nothing but blackness overhead. I couldn’t see Millie any more, couldn’t find Nic or Jack. I was shouting but no one could hear me; no one was listening. I slid backwards, trying to get to my feet again, but someone knocked me to the ground. There was a rasping voice. Calvino Falcone, with his shiny bald head glinting underneath the lights. He charged over me, nicking my ankle with his shoe. I crawled in his direction, trying to free myself from the sea of limbs that were keeping me down, but he stopped abruptly and stumbled backwards.

I slammed my body to the right and he fell to his knees beside me. I reached out to use his shoulder as an anchor but he was too quick. He sprang up clumsily and threw himself at something. I was shoved backwards again. The blackness overhead enveloped me. Gino darted by, his gun pointed at someone I couldn’t see. Then there was a shape – wide and tall, and careening backwards. Calvino fell on top of me and I was crushed against the floor. I lay winded, trapped and star-fished beneath his limbs.

Someone was screaming my name. I couldn’t see properly. There was red everywhere. It covered the floor. My hands were coated in it. It was dripping around my ears. It stuck between my fingers and matted my hair in clumps. My shoes kept sliding on that thick, warm liquid, my eyes blurring with the sheer volume of it. I was gasping for air but everything smelt strange, like rust and salt, and my mouth tasted like metal. I was gagging as I tried to struggle free from Calvino’s hugeness. Why hadn’t he stood up yet?

And then it hit me. He was dead.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

THE GETAWAY

I pushed against Calvino’s lifeless form, trying to shift over six feet of bulky muscle. He rolled off me, landing face down on the ground with a thud. His hand was crushed underneath his body and his legs were sticking out at a strange angle. Blood pooled around us. It was all over my arms and legs, all over him. There were multiple stab wounds in his back.

My stomach lurched and I spewed vodka all over the ground. It mixed with the blood, glistening under the lights. With panic still flooding inside me, I stumbled forward and pulled myself to my feet.

Everyone was scattering. A smudge of faces streaked by me, their expressions contorted in terror. Millie was gone – they all were, Falcones and Marinos and Jack, and I was alone, steeped in Calvino’s blood. I stumbled towards the stairwell, trying to escape the screams that were ringing in my ears. It took me a while to realize they were coming from me.

I hurtled down the steps, tripping over my heels. When I reached the ground floor, I was swept inside a stampede clamouring for the exit. I called out for Millie but I was stuck inside the swarm and she wasn’t anywhere. I squeezed between shoulders and arms, pushing my way towards the front. If anything happened to her, I’d never forgive myself. I shouldn’t have brought her here – I should never have come. I was a bad friend, the worst kind, and the more people that jostled against me, the higher my panic soared.

Outside, everything was hazy. The air was too thick and humid. Sirens wailed in the distance. I staggered across the street. The pain in my ribs was resurfacing and my whole body was convulsing. I clutched at my sides and pressed on, trying to put as much distance as possible between the club and me.