ONE HUNDRED AND ELEVEN.

He frowns, causing fine lines to appear on his otherwise flawless skin, and exhales with displeasure.

“Worthy of bearing my name?” He grumbles, letting go of my chin, and he yanks at the wires by the steering wheel, killing the engine. “Where is this coming from, Ivy?”

“From here,” I place my palm across my chest over my pounding heart. “And here.” Raising my hand, I tap my index finger on the side of my throbbing temple. “I want you to show me how to take control of a dangerous situation, how to suppress my fear, so it won't screw with my better judgement and how to fire a weapon, or at least throw a good punch.” I plead, shamelessly.

Two burly men approach the car, and just by looking at them, you can tell they are Lorenzos’ comrades from his time spent in the New Zealand Army.

Dressed in their combat gear, they stand out like sore thumbs without a care in the world, yet prepared to take on the world at the same time.

Alessandro looks at them, and he holds up two fingers, gesturin