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She still loves him. Was I about to ruin that by telling her the truth?
“He’s on hi—”
From the rear of the property, a car backfires. Then another, and another. No, they’re gunshots.
“With me, now!”
Suddenly, the hallway is full of men, all with guns in their hands. For a second, I think it’s the attackers, and this is the end, the day I die. Then I spot people I recognize: the tan complexions, the gold watches, and the slicked-back hair. They’re Italians.
“Put these on,” Eddie says, taking two vests from one of the other men and handing them to Rosa and me.
I get that distant, dreamlike feeling as I pull the vest over my head and wait as Eddie secures the Velcro. He does the same to Rosa. All the while, the gunshot sounds are getting closer.
“Now,” Eddie roars, guiding us to the front door.
Men surround us as we rush across the street. It’s all so chaotic, but I hold Rosa’s hand the entire time. She clings to me desperately, as if she never wants to let go. I savor it, despite the mayhem.
The second we climb into the back of the car, the window erupts. Glass shatters everywhere. It must explode inward and shower my face, and… No, it hasn’t exploded, but ithasbeen shot. It’s shattered, but the glass is holding, the fractured material remaining in place even when another gunshot hammers it.
“Fuck,” Eddie snaps from the driver’s seat, turning the key. The engine chugs but doesn’t jump to life. “Come on, come on…”
I turn and look out the back window. The street is swarming with armed, tattooed men. So much is happening I can barely register it. On one side, Russians kneel, shooting around cars and dumpsters. The Italians are on the other side. Then a car pulls up, screeching and spinning to a halt.
Leo leaps out of the passenger seat, wearing a silver suit, a rifle in his hand, yelling in our direction. I can’t hear him, but he’s shouting at us to get moving, waving his hand wildly. The car keeps chugging and grumbling.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Eddie groans.
Leo waves his hand, and then a bullet smashes him in the chest. He flies backward, slams against the car, and slumps to the ground.
“Dad!” Rosa screams.
“Leo!” I cry.
The car starts, and Eddie pulls away.
“No, wait,” I yell. “We have to go back. We can’t leave him. Leo’s been shot!”
The visions of the future crumble to ash, all the future smiles and embraces and love, all of it turning to shit. All of it fades away. The car speeds down the street, around the corner. Tears fill my eyes.
“Eddie, we can’t leave him there. We can’t let him die. Eddie, Eddie,please.”
I stop when I feel Rosa staring at me. Turning, I find her looking at me, a calculating glint in her eyes as though she’s mentally slotting puzzle pieces together. Yet she’s just seen her dad get shot, and she gives herself over to the pain. We embrace hands, squeezing tightly, both thinking the same thing. Don’t let him be dead.
“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, speeding through the streets, “but I’ve got my orders. I’m getting you two to safety.”
The sounds of the gunshots recede into the distance until I can’t hear them anymore.
“Is he dead?” Rosa asks.
“I’ll call for an update soon, but not until you’re safe.”
As we keep driving, I close my eyes and remember last night. I remember the kiss we shared when he left, almost chaste because neither of us wanted to lose control again. I imagine grabbing his hand when he turned away, tugging, and getting his attention.
“I love you,” I whisper in the fantasy. “Before you die, I need you to know that, Leo. I love you so, so much.”
In the dream, he replies, “I love you too.”
I glance at Rosa, seeing that look in her eyes again.
