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Echoes of footsteps rippled through the eerie silence, and the Vigilante’s head swiveled in that direction before he took off running, vanishing between the sea of vehicles.
Collapsing beside Dominic, I pressed my hands against his neck, desperate to staunch the bleeding. The blood saturated the ground next to him, seeping into the asphalt cracks like gruesome creeks and pooling outward. Its iron scent mixed with the hot rubber and tar of asphalt, which dug its coarse texture into my knees.
My arms trembled as Dominic’s warm blood escaped through the gaps between my fingers, hot tears blurring my vision.
“Someone help us!” My voice seemed muffled, swallowed by the sweltering vastness of the empty parking lot, but Dominic’s blood was all too loud, my fingers slick as I tried to stop the flow.
“Hold on, Dominic. You’re going to be okay,” I whispered, but even the light breeze was mocking, bringing no relief. The world was uncomfortably still, the hum of distant cars only emphasizing our isolation, and his skin was already a ghastly white, his lungs making a gurgling sound.
And then, his eyelids fluttered before slowly descending, sealing away the life behind them.
“Don’t go,” I sobbed. The same two words I’d said to my father all those years ago. He’d had as much choice in being hauled off to prison as Dominic did to losing his life.
“Help!” I cried again, the shimmering screen of my phone on the nearby ground beckoning me. But using it to call 911 meant releasing my pressure from his wound.
Footsteps stomped closer.
Oh God, what if that’s not help? What if the Vigilante changed his mind and was coming back to finish us both off?
“Dom!” Franco, Dominic’s cousin, ran and knelt at Dominic’s side. “What the fuck happened?”
“When I came outside, his throat was cut. Here, put pressure on his neck.”
I moved my hand to Dominic’s wrist.
His vein isn’t throbbing. No!
I placed my palms on his chest.
“He was stillconscious?” Franco asked.
“Hewas.”
Something passed through Franco’s eyes, as though a calculation inside a computer was taking place in his mind. Whatever answer the equation spit out, Franco’s face hardened, and he glared at me with a look that sent cold shock waves through my core.
I began pumping his chest.One. Two.
“What did he tell you?”
I snapped my stare to his. “What?”
Three. Four.
Franco frantically rifled through Dominic’s pockets, one after the other.
“What are you doing?” I asked. “Stop it! You need to keep pressure on his neck!”
Five. Six.
Franco bolted to his feet and grabbed my upper arms, making me gasp.
“Where is it?” Franco yelled.
I tried to yank away from him, but he was too strong.
“Let me go!” I shrieked. “Dominic needs CPR!”
“Where is it?” he snapped again.
