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His voice carried through the Pipe organ, echoing throughout the church. One of the hardest instruments to learn and master, yet his voice produced a sinister-driven melody as his vocals filtered in pressured air up its windpipes with my name. A repetition bounced into the high ceilings of the church, and the storm that roared outside the web-stained windows played the acoustics.
A full-crafted tune.
I wasn’t ready for what I will be encountering. Because the scene in my head was far from the nightmare I would soon witness.
My feet pushed forward into the light, strong footfalls that carried me into dismay and fright.
Blond hair, kneeling with a gun to his head.
Viktor.
Fratello.My stomach turned with rattling bile as his deep blues were straight ahead by the threat that touched his skull.
To his left, Enzo mimicked the same position. On the floor, a body lay face down, beaten into deep sleep, perhaps even death.
Leo.
Katia.
It’s true, they never made it to safety.
My eyes flew above to the guns drawn and pointed at me, but everywhere I turned, Katia was nowhere to be found.
“Borelli!”
“You just couldn’t be dead, could you?” My head snapped, and my fingers trembled in rage upon seeing her.
Katia.
My Katia.
Walking backward, Borelli dragged Katia with an arm wrapped around her neck like a noose. Bruising and suffocating, with a silver Colt on her head. A barrel begging to be used, a trigger twitching to be pulled.
The bottom of her dress cracked with the top layer of dried muck. A trail of raindrops plopped onto the floor from its soaking ends, and the rest was a scarlet tie-dye.
A cherry watercolor.
The corner of her lip bled. Her wrists and arms were sharp violet. A whole sleeve hung in crying lace by a thread, and her eyes popped with ruby vessels that blanketed over its white.
I met her dull olives. They were dry, tired, but they latched on and clung to me even as she struggled to match his pace. Fabric trapped her feet, causing him to drag her tighter into his arm’s chokehold.
I took a step, and guns cocked all around.
Borelli pressed his Colt harder on her. “Tsk, tsk,” his tongue warned.
I didn’t take another.
“Let her go,” I seethed.
Calm washed me, but it was the calm that promised cruelty. Ill wishes and acid torment. The kind of calm that masked evil.
“Did you really think it would be that easy?” Gray disheveled hair and dark circles colored his puffy eyes. He’d lost weight since the last time I saw him. His sickness took a toll on him. But it wasn’t a natural sickness. It was a sickness he’d created with his mind and deranged retribution.
What started as a broken vow turned into war to gain respect. Instead, he had lost because of his own delusions.
And now, I stood before the most dangerous type of man. The kind who had nothing to lose.
Power stripped.
