Page 49 of Thin Lives

Emma.

Emma.

Emmy.

Over and over.

Louder and louder.

The mantra of her name continued to fill his thoughts until his heart was in his throat and he couldn’t breathe. Calisto didn’t even realize he had gone to the side of the car that he watched Emma jump into earlier until he was grabbing on the door, and trying to yank it from the fucking hinges to open it up.

The damn thing wouldn’t move.

He pulled again, only to realize it was locked.

Calisto slammed an open hand on the dark tinted window, letting out a shout. He heard the click of a latch as someone inside the vehicle unlocked the door, and then he pulled it open just as fast.

Emma’s frightened, wide stare met his the second he had the door open. It was just the sight of her face—pale skin, red lips, green eyes. Terrified, and shaking, she whispered his name. Across the side of her cheek, blood splatters dotted her skin.

“Emmy,” he said softly, reaching in for her.

She held up her hands.

Bloody.

Her fingers trembled.

“Cal …”

It was only then that Calisto’s attention was drawn to the form slumped against Emma’s side.

Affonso.

Shit.

Calisto cursed under his breath as he pulled Emma from the car. She didn’t put up a fight, and even stumbled a few feet away before he could ask her if she was okay.

She was walking.

Her side was bloody.

But no gunshot wounds.

“Zio,” Calisto said, climbing in the back of the Mercedes.

Affonso groaned, low and hard. The sound was filled with pain, and a gurgling followed right behind. Calisto paid no mind to the driver that was slumped over the wheel.

“Cal,” Affonso gasped.

Calisto swallowed back his panic, hearing sirens in the distance.

Help was coming, he knew.

Somehow, he got Affonso to his back on the leather seat, ignoring the blood that stained his hands. Calisto found three different wounds that were bleeding from different spots on Affonso’s chest.

It was bad.

So bad.