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She cried with fists punching and pushing against Mario.
I slid onto the floor, wrapped my hands beneath her arms, and pulled her toward me. I shoved my foot down the body with my soles. Katia tried to fight me, trying to break free from my grasp, but we had no time.
I kicked us backward on the wet floor.
She kicked the body off.
Shaking red fingers gripped on white, her hands tugged on the heavy skirt, bunching the long trail away, and I turned our bodies to face the ground.
I kept pulling, dragging, and towing her beneath me. Shielding her quivering body.
Between the deserted rows of empty chairs, I placed her on the floor and flipped her over.
With a gun in one hand, I cupped her cheek fiercely with the other.
Crimson splashed her face in heavy specks, and gore sprinkled with remains that were once a part of her father. They created all sizes of freckles on her skin, dusting her features, neck, and chest. Dark red particles of torn flesh.
Her veil had disappeared. The lace over her arms was shredded, and her dress was ruined in deep red.
Dark hair stuck together in livid curtains of red wine.
Katia was showered in blood by the second bullet that struck the back of Mario’s head. And if she was a few inches taller, that high-caliber bullet would’ve struck her too.
My gaze raced over her body, trying to find out if the first bullet had touched her. But I found no open holes.
I pulled her convulsing body to me and concealed her face between the crook of my neck. Holding her and pushing my hand on the back of her head as I took in her quivers. I lifted my head to the chaos surrounding us.
Men poured from all directions while others scurried inside the church for shelter.
Death spotted the floor with men.
Some enemies.
Some mine.
And gunfire dipped the white pure flowers in blood, corruption, and evil.
I found Arlo, Rio, Sergio, and many more walking upward toward the danger in a formation. Guns bouncing with each shot, eyes devoid of feeling. Arlo’s gaze met mine, and I saw their diabolical need for torture. His left hand stretched, and he lifted his thumb, index, and middle finger out to me.
Hold.It warned.
Hold.
I crushed Katia to me and turned in the direction he aimed.
In the corner by a small brick column, Ilias fired with no protection as he placed Davina behind his back. He also had a heaving Sal who stood on weak legs, Mrs. Greco, and the priest. All between the stone wall shelter and him.
Where is Viktor?
I couldn’t see his blond hair or his deep blue bottomless eyes searching for me. His presence was nowhere near his little brother.
Shots flew near Ilias.
Davina screamed with her hands covering her ears, eyes shut, and far from reality. She was taken by trauma and memories, lost in the bullets as the brick crumbled to dust as it fell.
Ilias turned, head low, back out into the open like a shield.
He was trapped.
