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A third assailant lunges at me, attempting to pummel me with his closed fists. I managed to block two of his swings before he abandons the idea and snatches a sharp kitchen knife. He swipes at me, once, twice, slicing through my shirt.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a sizzling cast iron skillet. I grab it by the handle and launch it at his head. I don’t much care for the sound of searing skin, but the crack of the hard metal against his skull is satisfying as fuck.
There’s only one left now, the one who’s been firing at us. Seething, he trains his sights on Arin, his finger hovering over the trigger.
“Stay out of this, you fucking bitch!”
I can’t remember what happens next. The rest of the world fades; Arin is the only one I can concentrate on. She’s a beacon, impossible to look away from. My body is tired and heavy, but I rush toward her anyway, shielding her just as the thunderous bang of another gunshot reaches my ear. Pain explodes through my body, the bullet lodging itself into the front of my shoulder.
Much to my relief, Arin is unharmed. Traumatized probably, but there isn’t a mark on her.
I hear theclick, click, clickof an empty gun. The fucker’s out of bullets.
Now it’s time to run.
I take Arin’s hand again and pull her toward the back exit. We practically fall out of the building onto the busy streets of New York, the overwhelming sound of traffic and people disorienting me. The warm trickle down my back and the smell of iron in my nose isn’t a good sign. I really hope the bullet didn’t hit anything important. Bleeding out today would be a massive inconvenience.
“Oh my God, Dom, we need to get you to the hospital!”
“No,” I rasp. “No hospital.”
“But you’ve been shot!”
As much as I appreciate Arin’s concern, going to the hospital simply isn’t an option. Arin probably doesn’t know that when it comes to gunshot wounds, medical staff are obligated to call the police. And if the police are there, they’re going to start asking questions. And if they start asking questions… Let’s just say I’d rather end up dead than revealing anything about the Family or our operations.
When Elio called and told me our laundromats near 27th Street had been taken out, I knew something big was going down. Those businesses are close to the edge of Renato’s territory, making them an easy target to claim for himself. I had Elio wait with the car, but now he’s nowhere in sight. The last thing he told me was he spotted Renato’s men approaching, but now I’m worried he’s also being pursued.
“Come on,” I tell her, holding her hand tightly.
“Where are we going?”
“I need to get you out of here. We’re taking the subway.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? Dom, the hospital is —”
I turn and grasp her by the shoulders, looking her directly in the eye. “Marina, listen to me very carefully because I’m only going to say this once. We’re going to take the subway and I’m going to see you safely home. After that, I want you to remain indoors until I can confirm everything’s safe. I won’t have you questioning me on this.”
She presses her lips into a thin line, her frosty grey eyes full of fear, confusion, and a touch of anger as well. Now that Renato’s men have seen Arin’s face, I’ve effectively put a target on her back. If they’re stupid enough to come after her to get to me, they’ve got another think coming.
After a brief second, Arin nods.
“Let’s go,” I tell her, leading the way.
The subway train is crowded today, but nobody pays me and my bloody shirt any attention. This is New York, after all. There’s far freakier shit to gawk at than a man in rough shape. People give me and Arin a wide berth, their eyes glued to their phones. I do get an occasional look, but they’re quick to mind their own business.
I lose track of how many stops we pass, but Arin’s thankfully keeping count. I struggle to stand up right, the pain in my back blooming up to the base of my neck. Even though we’re out of immediate danger, my heart won’t stop pounding. The sounds of gunfire echoes around inside my skull, reawakening the dreaded memories of the day I lost my brother.
I was able to protect Arin, but I couldn’t do the same for Tommaso.
No matter what I try, I can’t get the image of his bloody face out of my head or the way his broken body felt in my arms. My hands shake and my breaths tighten, the ache in my chest unbearable.
This is exactly why I wanted to keep my distance from her, but I couldn’t stay away. There’s no fighting this inexplicable pull towards her. I’m a moth and she’s a flame, one that was almost snuffed out because I was careless enough to let my guard down.
“This is our stop,” Arin whispers.
I’m vaguely aware of the way she’s looking at me, her hand braced on my hip like I’m about to topple over any second now. The poor woman is scared half to death, but it’s sweet that her concern is solely on me.
She sticks close as we climb the stairs to exit the train station. I’m not sure if I’m pulling her toward me, or if she’s clinging to my arm of her own volition. Either way, the press of her body is a massive comfort. We make our way down the street as fast as we can until we reach a rundown apartment building that’s no doubt seen better days.
