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Salvatore and the others shielded themselves near the back door, as Corrado and Carmine hunkered down to the side with a clear line of sight. The gunshots slowed to a trickle as they reloaded, the rest of the men filtering out to come to Salvatore’s aid.
Carmine watched his father drop his pistol, clutching his heaving chest as he staggered a few steps. Vincent shrugged off his coat then, revealing a small Uzi hanging by a strap around his shoulder. The blood rushing through Carmine made him light-headed, his vision blurring as tears flowed down his cheeks.
Vincent bowed his head and made the sign of the cross, his mouth moving furiously as he spoke to himself. Praying, he realized. His father was praying.
“No!” Carmine screamed the word as realization dawned—it was a fucking kamikaze mission.
Vincent turned, his eyes falling on him briefly before he stepped into the wide-open yard. Corrado dropped to the ground instantly, roughly grabbing Carmine as he tried to get to his feet. He pinned him down with his body as the loud spray of bullets ripped through the night. It was deafening. Carmine’s head thumped ferociously with every loud bang as the frantic explosion of gunfire lit up the yard.
Carmine screamed, begging his father not to go through with it, but it was too late. There was no turning back. He had made his bed and he was prepared to lie in it . . . he was ready to lie in it.
But Carmine wasn’t fucking ready. He never would be.
He tried to push Corrado away but his uncle wouldn’t budge, shielding him as the spray of bullets flew all around them. Two guys dropped nearby, their bodies convulsing, and others ducked for cover to fire back. In the midst of the chaos, Carmine lost track of who was where, bodies dropping and people running, painful screams mixing with the gunfire.
A shot ripped through Vincent’s stomach and he stumbled, his finger leaving the trigger briefly as he lost his grip, giving the others enough time to recover. They fired in succession, a bullet tearing through Vincent’s shoulder as another one struck his calf. He dropped to his knees, swaying as he tried to stabilize himself. Vincent pulled the trigger again, more people hit with the wild spray of bullets.
The gunfire stopped abruptly as the cartridge was spent. Vincent shrugged the weapon off his shoulder, letting it drop to the ground. He sat back, his head dropping and body shaking as he stared at the trampled grass. Someone stood up near the house and Carmine panicked because his father was unarmed, but Corrado reacted instinctively. He fired off a shot, the bullet hitting the man straight in the temple.
Carmine yelled for his father but Corrado shoved him farther into the ground, busting his face on the concrete to silence him. He cursed, blood seeping from his nose, as sirens blared in the distance. Someone yelled, “Police!” as others fled, scrambling to disappear into the night.
Corrado finally let go of him when the crowd dispersed. Carmine pushed away from the ground and glanced across the yard as his father crawled toward the side of the house. Corrado started toward him as Vincent stopped at the corner, sitting back on his knees as he grabbed his discarded pistol.
“Vincent!” Corrado yelled, panic in his voice.
Vincent glanced in their direction, the breath leaving Carmine when he saw his father’s face. The color had drained away, his skin the ashy pale hue of death, his eyes dull and lifeless.
Vincent said something quietly, not loud enough for Carmine to hear, but whatever it was made Corrado’s footsteps falter. The sirens grew louder and Corrado shook his head, stiffly, angrily, but Vincent nodded with determination.
“Get out of here, Carmine!” Corrado yelled.
Carmine started across the yard toward them, ignoring his uncle, but nearly buckled from fright when his father raised his gun and pointed it below his chin. “No! Dad, no!”
Vincent’s eyes drifted closed, his finger shaking violently on the trigger.
Corrado bowed his head with a long sigh, his voice quiet. “Perdonami.”
Forgive me.
Without hesitation, Corrado raised his gun and squeezed the trigger. A hoarse scream vibrated Carmine’s chest, painfully clawing its way from his throat, as the final bullet tore through his father’s skull. Vincent dropped backward, his body limp on the grass. Carmine collapsed at the same moment, unable to move any farther as sobs rocked his body.
Corrado walked past him and approached the pool. He grabbed Carmine’s gun and took his own, wiping them off with his shirt before dropping them into the deep chlorinated water. His eyes scanned the property then, surveying the carnage. Bodies were scattered everywhere, puddles of blood all around.
The sirens wailed louder, lights flashing as police raided the property. Corrado raised his hands in the air and dropped to the ground before they had to tell him, and Carmine rolled onto his stomach to assume the same position.
Carmine was in a complete daze as they were handcuffed. Corrado lay beside him in the grass, muttered to himself in Italian. It took a minute for Carmine to register that he was praying, and Carmine lost control of himself at the sound. A loud sob escaped as they placed a sheet over his father’s lifeless body, blood soaking through and turning the crisp white to a vibrant red.
Carmine tried to silence his cries when they pulled Corrado from the ground to lead him away, but it was senseless. He was distraught.
“Seven deceased, including Dr. DeMarco,” an officer said. “Still waiting on confirmation of the other six.”
“Get a move on it,” a second man responded, his voice vaguely familiar. “Anyone inside?”
“Just the trafficking victim DeMarco said would be here,” the man said. “The girl wouldn’t speak to anyone, though, so we don’t know who she is.”
“Give her some time. She’ll come around once she realizes she’s safe.”
Footsteps approached, the familiar voice calling Carmine’s name. He glanced up, coming face-to-face with Special Agent Cerone. He crouched down and unlocked Carmine’s handcuffs, sighing as he grabbed his hand and eyed the wound. “Get the medic to come look at his injury, please.”
