34. Mia
34
MIA
I wake to the sound of gunshots. Never in my entire twenty-five years have I mistaken the sound of gunshots for anything else. Not even the sound of a car backfiring comes close. I slide stealthily from the car, drop to a crouch and survey the vast expanse of the docks. It’s so large, I don’t know where to start. I put my ear to the ground, my own breathing stilted as I wait and listen so I can determine where the shots are coming from.
The night air is cold against my skin, and I feel the heaviness of it settle in my bones. The docks are deserted, but the low murmur of water slapping against the pier is interrupted by the sharp, sporadic cracks of gunfire. The echoes bounce off the metal containers, disorienting me, making it hard to pinpoint the direction.
All I can think of is Brando. Brando. His brothers. This can’t be the end for us.
I don't think twice. I’m already moving before my brain can catch up with my heart. The sounds are getting closer, not farther, and that sends a cold shiver of dread through me. If I don’t find him soon, I won’t be able to save him. I press myself against the nearest shipping crate, holding my breath as I slip into the shadows, trying to stay low.
I know the docks too well. The hidden nooks. The paths between containers. The way the light barely touches some of the dark corners. I’m familiar with every inch of it from numerous trips here with my father—but right now, nothing feels familiar. Not the tension in the air. Not the sharp sounds that slice through it. The atmosphere feels alien, suffocating.
I round a corner, eyes flicking across the darkness. And that’s when I see him.
Scar Gatti.
Being mauled by a mountain of a man who has a knife at his neck as they struggle against each other, both fighting for control of the blade. Blood drips from Scar’s hand, staining the ground beneath him. The sight of him, still alive but clearly hurting, hits me like a punch to the gut.
His eyes are half-lidded, struggling to stay awake, and for a second, I hesitate. But I quickly come to my senses and lift the gun Mason entrusted me with from my waistband. I position myself at the man’s back, aim, and shoot. The man staggers, then drops to his knees, before crumpling to the ground
“Scar!” My voice comes out low but urgent.
In an instant, I’m by Scar’s side, struggling to guide him down before he falls and cracks his head open. He doesn’t react at first, his breath coming in shallow gasps. I crouch down beside him, scanning his injuries quickly. The cut to his palm looks deep, but it’s nothing that can’t be fixed. He starts to fall in and out of consciousness, mumbling incoherently.
“Mia,” he rasps, his voice hoarse. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“You need a doctor,” I tell him.
Scar shakes his head, trying to sit up but wincing in pain. “Call Allegra,” he whispers. “She’ll know who to call.”
I press my hand over the wound to slow the bleeding, doing my best to keep him still. “Stay here,” I order, my voice firm.
He’s out again just as the Enforcer reaches us, and I stand and back away. If he wants me to call Allegra, that means we’re in bigger trouble than we expected.
I clench my jaw, the fear gnawing at the back of my mind. I can’t leave him, not like this. But Scar is right. We need help. I don’t know where all the men are, and I don’t stop to survey the carnage around me as I move back towards the ancient warehouse that once doubled as office space for short term leases. I know there’s a phone in there, even though it probably hasn’t been used in years. I’m not sure how much time I have left before more men show up, but I can’t afford to waste any more. I know that if I don’t move now, I might not get another chance. I back away slowly, keeping my eyes on Scar, then turn and sprint toward the deeper end of the docks, where the warehouse stands.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, the air thick with the scent of gunpowder. Every shadow is a potential threat as I move fast, weaving through the maze of containers, staying as low as possible until I reach the warehouse. I slide through the door quietly, stopping in my tracks at the sound of voices deep inside the cavernous warehouse. I inch closer, hiding out of sight as I listen.
Then I hear him.
Frank.
“You’ve made this personal, Brando,” Frank says, his voice thick with malice.
“The dead man walking speaks.”
Brando’s voice is unmistakable. There isn’t a trace of fear in it, but in my mind, knowing him the way I know him, I can hear that he’s calculating the situation.
“You know the problem with you, Brando? You never learn,” Frank says. I hear the cocking of a gun, and I don’t hesitate. I spring out from my hiding spot, gun raised, my heart thundering in my chest. This time, I’ll be the one to end it.
I stumble into view, my heart pounding in my chest. Frank leans against a rusted pillar, his arm wrapped tightly around Sophia, a glint of madness in his eyes. The cold steel of a gun presses against my sister's temple, and I feel a chill run down my spine. My sister’s eyes don’t move as she looks my way, as though seeing through me.
She’s always had the same blonde hair as mine, and I’ve always thought her more beautiful. More put together. Everything about her has always been perfect. Whereas I just was. But now her hair is a dull straw color, hanging in limp clumps down her back. Her skin is a sallow hue, pale and bland, her face having lost all the color of youth. In a few short weeks, my sister has aged beyond her years, and I think I could kill Frank with my own bare hands for the damage he’s caused her.
“Sophia.” I breathe her name, but my sister doesn’t even flinch.
“Welcome, Mia,” Frank sneers, his voice dripping with malice. “I knew you couldn’t resist the temptation to see your precious sisters one last time. Drop the gun.”
Sophia’s eyes are wide, flat saucers of terror as she’s held in Frank’s firm death grip. My breath catches in my throat; I can see the fear etched into my sister’s features, the way her body shakes against the man who has hijacked our lives. I engage the safety and drop the gun to the ground, then kick to with my foot toward him.
“Let her go, Frank!” My shout echoes through the empty warehouse as I step forward, my fists clenched tight at my sides.
Frank chuckles darkly, the sound echoing off the walls. “And why would I do that, Mia?” He tightens his grip on Sophia, the gun digging into her skin. “I want you to feel what it’s like to be helpless. I want you to feel the weight of her life in your hands. To know what’s coming unless you do as I say.”
My heart races as I take in the scene—the desperation in Sophia’s eyes and the smug satisfaction radiating from Frank. I have always known he is a monster, but seeing him like this, as close to insanity as one can possibly get, ignites a fury within me.
“What do you want?” I ask, my voice quivering with both fear and resolve.
“Mia don’t…” Brando steps forward, and Frank ushers him back by pointing the gun in his direction.
“One of us is going to die today. And I have no intention of that being me,” he hisses. In those few words, he tells me everything I need to know. Frank has undoubtedly gone over the edge and plunged himself into madness. “Behave and I’ll let you live until the after party.”
“You don’t have to do this, Frank.” I struggle even to say his name. The vile, vicious reptile holds my sister captive. He holds my love captive. And what of my other sister? Where is Maxine?
His lips curl into a sinister smile. “You never should have left me, Mia. I was always the better choice for you.”
“You ruined me,” I remind him, as a cold front sweeps across my heart. When I think of all the pain he’s caused me and others, I go numb with the urge to destroy him as he destroyed me.
“Semantics,” he scoffs. “Come a little closer, Mia. Come stand beside me.”
“Mia…” Brando’s voice is a warning growl and I’m cut between wanting to listen to him and wanting to save my sister. Although I know, I know with everything inside me that he will never let her go. That’s not who Frank Falcone is. He doesn’t have a merciful bone in his body.
“Come here, Mia, or you’re going to suffer for the rest of your life carrying the mental image of your sister’s brains splattered on this floor.”
“You wouldn’t do that,” I gasp, although my words sound like a lie even to my own ears.
“Wouldn’t I?”
He presses the gun tighter against Sophia’s head, who whimpers softly, the sound a dagger to my heart. I can see the bruise that already blooms where the gun digs into her skin.
I don’t trust him to let Sophia go. I know he won’t. He already said as much; the fact that he’s offering to spare her, even while he has a gun to her head tells me she’s already as good as dead. This is a madman we’re dealing with. And he knows that he has the upper hand; if we so much as hurt him, we’re never going to find Maxine, and we can’t take that chance. I can’t risk either of my sisters’ safety.
“You don’t have to do this,” I plead with him, taking another step closer, my eyes locked on Sophia’s desperate gaze. “Let her go, Frank. She has nothing to do with this.”
Frank’s expression darkens as he leans closer to Sophia, his finger brushing against the trigger. “Oh, she has everything to do with this. Death would be easier for her. Isn’t that right, Sophia?” He taunts my sister, eliciting a painful whimper from her. I watch in horror as he sticks out his tongue and licks up the side of Sophia’s face, taunting me with his eyes.
My breath catches in my throat. “You’re sick!” I shout, my voice breaking as I feel the weight of despair wash over me.
Frank's laughter echoes in the morning air, but it’s cut short by a sudden movement from behind. Lucky, hidden in the shadows, creeps silently toward them, his gun raised and his eyes locked on Frank’s head.
In a heartbeat, the tension snaps. Lucky lowers the gun to Frank’s leg and pulls the trigger, a deafening gunshot shattering the night. Frank’s head jerks back, a look of shock frozen on his face as he crumples to the ground, howling in pain. His gun falls from his hand, clattering against the concrete.
Sophia slumps to the ground, her body limp as I rush forward, falling to my knees beside my sister. “Sophia! No! No no no no no!” I cradle my sister’s head in my lap, feeling her warm blood seeping through my fingers. It’s Frank’s blood. His brain matter is splattered all over Sophia. It’s in her hair, on her skin, soaking her clothes, and I think she must have fainted from the shock of it all.
But as I look into Sophia’s eyes, I see the light fading, a chilling realization creeping over me. There’s something odd about her eyes. They’re already dead and cold, staring through me. “No, no, no…” I whimper, shaking Sophia gently, desperate for a response that doesn’t come.
Brando drops to his knees beside us, his expression a mixture of horror and regret as he assesses the situation. “Mia…”
He doesn’t understand what’s happened any more than I do as Sophia’s body goes limp in my arms, her eyes glazed and unseeing. My heart shatters as I look at Sophia, pulling her head to my chest as a primal howl leaves me.