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Except the only clips I can find are for the rifle, and his weapon is out of ammo.
I reach around to Dom’s back and find the handgun tucked into his holster.
It won’t win against the men coming toward us with assault rifles.
But it might buy us a few more seconds.
A few more seconds together.
I reach up and put just the barrel of the gun over the top of the vehicle and squeeze the trigger.
I space them out, angling the gun a little between each shot. Just enough to keep their heads down, even as they return fire.
But then my gun clicks empty.
And all the gunfire stops.
Because I’m out.
And they know it.
I sink down onto my knees.
I failed us.
The falling snow suddenly thickens, and the blanket of silence is overwhelming.
I shuffle to Dominic’s side.
I want to sit in his lap, want to hug him and turn my back on everything. But I can’t do that to him.
I’m going to face this.
He’s dying because he was protecting me.
It’s my turn now.
Picking up the last item from his pocket, I thread my fingers through the heavy metal.
Squeezing my right hand into a fist, I kneel next to my husband and press my left palm against the hole in his chest. And I wait.
Three things I see.
The lowering sun glittering through the snowfall.
Dominic’s blood on my hands.
The empty rifle lying in the snow.
Three things I hear.
Ringing in my ears.
King’s voice shouting through the phone, somewhere on the ground.
Approaching footsteps.
Three body parts.
