Chapter Thirty-Five
Max
Glass is in the air, and Gio grabs me by the arm. I hear Cal’s voice but don’t register his words.
I look up but his eyes are trained on the shattering bay window in the front of the café as glass shatters around us. I feel his hand slide from its hold on my waist as Gio pulls me, and see the gun that was previously safely tucked under his jacket already in his hand, ready.
Gio covers me, gun drawn in his other hand and I scream Cal’s name again, try to turn to grab him to come with us but Gio doesn’t let me stop. He pulls me down the service hallway and palms the crash bar of the door and we spill into cold air that smells like old oil and river wind.
Two steps, tops, and we both realize the alley isn’t empty.
A man peels off the brick he was leaning on beside the door and shoves the barrel of his gun, black and cold, to my head.
“Easy.” The word comes out of Gio’s mouth like he’s talking to a wild animal, his own handgun already extended and raised.
The metal of the man’s gun rubs the skin at my temple.
It’s cold.
I guess I never considered how cold the metal of a gun could be.
I don’t move a muscle, but my eyes flick between the man with the gun to my left and Gio on my right.
“Back inside,” the holder of the gun says to Gio, bored.
The man’s hand reaches for my elbow, and he jerks me in front of him, both of us facing Gio now.
The cold of the metal leaves my temple but the side of the barrel is immediately against my right cheek as he holds it there, pointed at Gio. I blink slowly, wanting to close my eyes, pretend I’m not here, but refusing to take my eyes off Gio.
“Or she goes.” He turns the barrel back against my temple.
My breath hitches and I think maybe a whine escapes.
None of this feels real and Gio looks calm, his posture is assured as he points his own gun towards the man behind me.
Two guns.
Pointed at me.
I don’t hear the first shot so much as I feel it.
The cold metal of the gun scratches across my cheek and air cracks beside my ear, the whole world shearing into a high, electric ring.
Gio jerks in front of me.
A hot splash hits my wrist.
The smell hits next.
I’ve been trying to name it for months; for forever.
Burnt salt, metallic like stone.
It blooms over everything, coats my tongue.
Gunpowder.
The word arrives in my mind right as my balance disappears.
I think I say Gio’s name, or maybe Cal’s.
The alley doubles; the ground tilts; strong hands close on my arms and move me like a ragdoll, like I weigh nothing, like I mean nothing.
I open my mouth but don’t hear the scream I think I let out before a rough hand covers my mouth and lifts me over a shoulder.
It’s seconds but it feels like hours.
I kick and hit and scratch. I do everything they say you should do.
And it feels like hitting a solid wall.
Every hit I land against the man’s back bounces and does nothing.
He walks slowly. All I can see is his black shirt and black jeans, and my eyes search as I crane my neck up to look towards the café doors.
Gio is on the ground, trying to get up but collapsing at every attempt.
I think I scream out for him and he reaches for something. For me? His gun?
He falls back and I think I continue to scream, but the ringing drowns out every sound.
The man flips me forward in the alley in front of a car that has pulled up.
I try to fall to the ground.
I just need to give Cal time.
Time to get out here to—to save me.
To get to me.
My throat feels like it rips as I scream.
I see the man clearly now. He has light skin and dark features, sharp eyebrows and black eyes. His hair is shaved down to the skin, his expression is bored as he grabs my clawing hands and holds them against my sides.
I feel arms behind me and I’m being lifted again.
I drag the heels of my shoes across the concrete, pushing my feet down as hard as I can—they slip off.
For a moment, my mind forgets the situation altogether, focusing only on how sad Sophia would be if she knew those beautiful shoes were lost in an alley.
And then the ringing in my ears swallows the rest of the world as it goes dark.