Cuco’s pov;
I ignored Azalea’s persistent question about who it was as I shoved the knife into my waistband.
“You need to go.”
Another buzz.
I grabbed the phone quickly. ‘NO TIME. THEY’RE CLOSE.’
I muttered a string of curses as I reached for the small beretta under the bed. I had just three rounds left in it, but I was going to have to manage.
Azalea grabbed my arm suddenly. “I’m not leaving you.”
“You are,” I said, meeting her eyes. “Because if you don’t, you won’t leave at all.”
Something shifted in her expression then. I recognized it as fear and exhaled slowly. If she was scared, she wouldn’t make things difficult for me because she was too persistent.
“What did you do?” she whispered.
I didn’t have an answer that wouldn’t damn me further.
I moved to the door and listened.
