He Didn’t Kidnap Me. Not Exactly novel Chapter 227

Chapter 227

(DeLuca’s POV)

“Daisy.”

There was no response.

She lay limply in my arms, her head resting against my shoulder as blood continued to seep through my fingers. My right hand was pressed firmly against the fresh wound in her abdomen, applying as much pressure as I could without worsening the damage. Warm blood coated my palm and stained the grip of the pistol I still held, while another crimson trail spread steadily across her clothes.

“Daisy.”

Nothing.

Not even the slightest movement.

For one suspended moment, the apartment ceased to exist around me. The shattered television, the unconscious bodies scattered across the floor, the open front door through which Aria had escaped-they all blurred into meaningless shapes. There was only Daisy, frighteningly still in my arms, and the terrifying amount of blood slipping between my fingers.

Something inside me snapped.

With a violent swing of my arm, I hurled the pistol across the apartment. It slammed into the wall with enough force to leave a crack before clattering uselessly onto the floor.

“Fuck!”

The word tore itself out of my throat.

I didn’t waste another second.

Sliding one arm beneath Daisy’s knees and the other around her back, I lifted her carefully against my chest. Even unconscious, she instinctively leaned into me, and that small, unconscious movement only sharpened the urgency clawing at my ribs.

“Stay with me,” I muttered, already striding toward the door. “You’re not dying today.”

The afternoon air hit me the moment I stepped outside. I crossed the short distance to where I had parked, only for my feet to stop abruptly.

The space was empty.

My gaze lingered there for barely a heartbeat before the answer settled.

Aria.

She had taken my car.

I turned immediately toward the SUV parked nearby, the vehicle her men had arrived in. Pulling open the rear door, I lowered Daisy onto the back seat as gently as the circumstances allowed before climbing into the driver’s seat.

My hand reached for the ignition.

Nothing.

I stared at the empty slot. No key.

The driver.

One of her men.

With the thought, I stepped out again without a word and headed straight back into the apartment.

The first body I reached was sprawled near the entrance. I nudged him once with my boot, confirming what I already knew before moving

The second man lay a few feet farther in, collapsed near the centre of the room.

I crouched beside him and searched his jacket with quick, practiced movements.

The keys jingled softly as I pulled them free.

As I rose, something else caught my attention.

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