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One by one, I extinguished life.
One by one, they dropped to the ground.
My knees scraped against the grain floor while I moved from one corner to the other. Kneeling, then squatting.
Each time I shot two rounds into bodies.
Each time, we gained ground and pushed forward.
There were so many.
They. Just. Kept. Coming.
I had the manpower to take down syndicates. Miami, New York, and Chicago were the biggest in numbers. But my men were scattered and placed on the path we would have taken after the ceremony. Streets were crowded with soldiers as civilians walked aimlessly with hidden guns. Cars parked, waiting, and rows of soldiers waited minutes away from where the reception would have been.
The reception would’ve been flooded with made-men.
I had scattered my men!
I had it all planned.
I had it all laid out.
Yet, I stood feet away from the house of God. Committing sin on sacred ground, decorating the manicured lawn and its statues in red and sinful rain.
I had it sealed, perfected, or so I had thought.
Now we were outnumbered, and our men who traveled were most likely stuck in a fabricated disturbance, delaying their arrival and machinery.
Arlo made it next to me. Sergio followed him as he helped Rana walk into the shelter. Rana dropped to the floor, eyes shut in agony as his thigh bled in rapid gushes. A puddle quickly grew, and his sweaty face was tinted in ash.
“Get your belt!” I ordered.
Sergio quickly removed his belt. I fastened it high on Rana’s thigh in hopes of reducing his bleeding.
“It’s no use,” he muttered.
“Shut up,” I spat.
“We are on our own, Lucca,” Arlo mumbled, locking his phone back and tucking it in his pocket.
“Where’s Viktor?” I asked for the brother I still hadn’t seen.
I met his clashing irises, hooded. Adam's apple bobbed as his head shook. “I don’t know.”
My attention was drawn by a gripping fist. It was weak, and yet, my eyes fell on the man who desperately needed me. If it hadn’t been for the color draining out of his face and the trembles that shook against my chest as he hung onto my shirt, I would’ve killed him on the spot.
I was too consumed by red to see past reasoning, too lost in ire and bloodthirst.
Too out of control.
“Boss.” His breath quivered. “Please, Milly. I was all she had left.”
Was.
“Don’t let her get sent to a home.” His eyelids grew heavy. “Please,” he begged.
Milly.
