Zayne heard her.
He knew he'd been shot right before he even carried her. And she was panicking on his shoulder.
"Calm down. I'm fine."
"You're not fine! You're shot and it's really bleeding alo—"
"Calm down!"
He scaled the stairs to the second floor of the bar and took to the left, crouching so that he could put her to her knees behind the railings of the balcony.
"Stay here, and do not move," he said, reloading his pistol.
Evelyn grabbed his arm, rapidly shaking her head at him. "You can't seriously be thinking of going out there again."
He didn't answer her.
"Mr. Mancini!" She stared at him, face pale. "You can't do that. They will—"
Zayne grasped the back of her head suddenly, keeping her still. "Look at me."
She gazed at him.
"Breathe for me, and calm down."
She tried. She was trying, but she felt like she had sawdust in her throat.
"Now, you're going to sit here and wait for me like I asked you. Do not move, no matter what you see or hear, do you understand me?"
Evelyn couldn't answer.
His face crumpled.
"Listen here, Evelyn, one mistake and you're going to get yourself killed. Who do you think they are here for? Me? No. They're here for you and they won't leave until they've put a bullet through your head."
Her rapid breathing grew.
"So it's either you listen to me and sit here quietly. Quietly, you hear me? Don't make a sound and wait for me."
Zayne rose to his feet and took off his bloody coat. He reached for the revolver in the other holster strapped around his hip and stormed off.
Evelyn wanted to go after him; she didn't want to be there alone, but she sat back regardless, pulling her knees to her chest. She slapped a palm over her mouth, shoulders rising and falling in quick breathing.
The first gunshot sounded, making her flinch, and then came a series of them to the extent that she had to cover her ears.
She wasn't stupid. She knew the inheritance had already put her life at stake, and she knew it was only a matter of time before someone would try to get her killed.
She just didn't think it would be this fast.
It was the reason she'd tried leaving the country. Yes, run away like some coward. What could she even do?
But then again, who said they wouldn't track her down to France and assassinate her there.
She forced herself to turn her head.
Was he okay?
She peeked through the opening in the railing of the second-floor balcony, gaze falling downstairs.
Zayne Mancini was standing in the center of the marble floor, firing shots from both left and right.
One of the bullets burst through to the second floor, and she could hear someone fall. Then another and another, and somehow he was dodging the bullets coming for him.
Had he been shot again? She couldn't tell, but his suit was a bloody mes—
Someone palmed her face, covering her mouth, and then her arms were grabbed, her body being dragged away.
Evelyn fought, struggling, trying to escape from whoever it was.
Her sounds were muffled. Zayne couldn't hear her, and she knew that if she was ever kidnapped out of this place, no one would be able to save her, not before she was killed.
So she did the only thing she could think of.
Evelyn bit so hard into one of the fingers, enough that she tasted blood, and that allowed her to scream, because the man had let go, in pain.
"HELP!"
She crawled backwards, hurrying, forcing herself to her feet.
Her gaze shifted to the flower vase on a table. She didn't think, didn't have to wait for Zayne to save her, before picking up the vase, heavy and ceramic.
She slammed it into his head and quickly backed away as the masked man dropped to the floor, coughing and clutching his bleeding head.
"You damned bitch!"
He aimed his silencer at her and was just about to pull the trigger. A shot, however, was fired from behind her, making a hole through his forehead.
She watched him drop to the floor completely lifeless.
Everywhere seemed to have quieted down, and all of a sudden, she fell to her knees, her entire body drained of strength.
She wasn't even sure when the wetness in her eyes broke, and she began crying. For a second there, she'd seen her life flash before her eyes. She truly thought she was dea—
"Don't be a crybaby now." Zayne grabbed her arm. "Get up!"
She rose, hurrying after him as he dragged her along. "You're calling me a crybaby? I almost died. I've never experienced something like this before!"
"Then breathe for me." He snapped around to her, eyes calm, despite the words coming out of his mouth. "You're alive. If you can cry, then you can breathe and try to calm down."
She went silent, following him out of the building. He took her to his car and reached for the key, but then he grunted, closing his eyes for a second and staggering.
"Zayne?" She clutched his arms. "A-are you okay?"
He handed the key to her. "You're driving."
"Me?"
She watched him get into the passenger side of the car. Her gaze fell on the car key, and she sat on the driver's seat, lowering her eyes to the steering wheel.
Her throat worked in a swallow.
"Are we going to the hospital?"
Zayne furrowed his brows at her. "No."
"What do you mean, no?" she snapped over to him. "You're bleeding! I need to take you to the hospital so you—"
"Drive me home, Evelyn."
"But—"
"Drive me home!" he gritted out, annoyed. "Now."
"Okay, okay."
She nodded, breathing out.
Evelyn wrapped her fingers around the wheel. Her lashes flickered, and she gulped, the sound of her rapid heartbeat pounding in her ears.
Her fingers were trembling. She felt cold from fear.
Zayne looked at her. "What now?"
"I can't…" She shook her head. "I can't drive. We might get hurt if I do."
"You've got to be kidding me," he muttered with a pissed look. "Are you trying to tell me you never learned how to drive?"
She shook her head. "That's not it."
"Then what is it?!"
"I haven't driven in years, okay?!" Her breathing was coming out rapidly. "You don't know anything, you don't understand anything. I-I—"
"So what?!" he grasped the collar of her shirt, yanking her closer. "You going to sit there and watch me bleed to death?"