ENRIQUE
The shooting did not last ten minutes before there was blissful silence. Every muscle in my body was still locked in that primal instinct to protect her and to kill for her if I had to but after some minutes of nothing. I could tell the men were gone.
Slowly, I exhaled and loosened my grip on Olivia. Her face was pressed into my throat, her hands knotted tight in my shirt like she was terrified to let go. When I shifted, she let out a tiny, strangled gasp.
"It is okay," I murmured. "It is over"
I forced myself to ease back enough to look at her. Her eyes were wide and glassy, her lower lip trembling. Tiny shards of glass glittered in her hair, and her blouse was streaked with wine and dirt from the floor.
I pushed up first, ignoring the roar of pain in my side as my stitches protested. Then I helped her up.
"Welcome to Spain," I muttered darkly
I grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the chaos and throngs of dead bodies.
