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Gunshots.
Shouts.
Footsteps.
My father looks over his shoulder and then jogs for the door. He runs into the hallway without closing the door to my room behind him. I stay in the corner for a second, wondering whether it is safe to leave, and then I realize this opportunity might never come again. Whatever is going on outside this room, I’d rather face it than stay here and be a prisoner. So, I haul myself onto my aching bones and hurry off in the same direction as my father.
I run down a long hallway, following the sound of voices, and when I turn a corner, I nearly slam into my father’s back. He is standing in the center of the hallway, looking out into the main warehouse floor. At Luka.
He looks like a dark knight, standing there in his black t-shirt and dark wash jeans. His hair is perfectly mussed, beard unruly from what I imagine have been a crazy few days. He has his gun aimed at my father. As soon as I appear over my dad’s shoulder, Luka’s eyes find me, and they burn.
I feel his gaze like a physical touch, singing through my skin, and I want to run to him. I’m so thrilled to see him that I actually sob, my knees threatening to give out. I’m happy and horrified that he is here, standing in the middle of the warehouse. Alone. I keep waiting for bullets to start raining down on him, for men to come from every side and attack him. My stomach rolls with nausea brought on by morning sickness and hunger and nerves. The wave makes me unsteady, and I wobble on my feet. That is when my father’s arm slaps across my chest, holding me back.
“I’m surprised to see you,” my father says, smiling even though I can tell every fiber of him is taut and tense.
“That was the plan,” Luka growls. His deep voice sooths an ache inside of me. “Your men were ill-prepared.”
I look around and realize there are only a few men stepping forward for the fight. Either Luka fought most of them on his own already or the warehouse was lightly guarded. Considering my father thought Luka would reach out by phone first, he probably didn’t think he needed the entire Irish and Furino armies having a big slumber party at the warehouse.
I smile. Luka outsmarted him. We might actually get out of here alive.
“I assume you are here for Eve,” my father says, swiping his arm back and pushing me further behind him. “And the baby.”
Luka looks at me for a second, something flaring behind his eyes, but just as fast as it appears, it is gone. I can’t tell what he thinks about the news of our baby, but this is hardly the time or place to find out. We can talk about becoming parents once we are out of this warehouse and back in the mansion together. Once we have put all of this chaos behind us.
“You shouldn’t assume things, Benedetto,” Luka says coldly. He looks at me, his top lip pulling back in a snarl. “I don’t give a shit about some Furino bitch or the little bastard in her belly.”
I search his face for the lie, for a sign of his deception, but there is nothing. Just a wall of unfeeling ice. I don’t know what to believe, and I begin to shake. First, my legs, and then my arms. I’m trembling from head to toe, the world slipping out from underneath me.
Without Luka, I’m alone. I have no one.
My father frowns, and I can see him scanning Luka the same way I was, looking for the lie. When he doesn’t find it, he crosses his arms. “Then, why are you here? Why not call me and make a trade?”
“I prefer to handle my business face-to-face,” he says. “You know that. Plus, I wanted to end things with Eve in person.”
Luka steps forward, and my father flinches, but then he slips the wedding ring from his finger and holds it out. “You reneged on our deal, Benedetto, so now I’m backing out on my end. Eve is yours to do with what you will.”
My father’s laugh is humorless as he steps forward slowly. “What of my guns?”
“We’ll discuss the guns once I’m assured my duty to your daughter has been fulfilled,” Luka says, not even looking at me. I feel like a speck on the floor, unwanted and useless. He holds the ring out even further, insisting my father take it.
My father steps forward again, moving further away from me, and I realize this is my chance to run. The odds of me escaping the room unscathed are slim, but it is the best chance I’ll have. My father takes another step and another, and I prepare myself to run for my life. However, before I can run, Luka tosses the ring into the air. My father lifts his hands to catch it.
For one long moment, time stands still. I don’t know where to look.
There’s the ring, rotating slowly in the air, refracting the fluorescent light overhead.
There’s Luka – fierce, taut, dark, as inscrutable and fiery as ever, a walking enigma stirring up so many emotions in me that it’s going to take decades to figure them all out – if I even have that much time left.
And there’s my father. His eyes track the ring overhead. His fingers are reaching towards it. The glow in his eyes is twisted and greedy, the scowl on his lips a mixture of smug satisfaction and unrestrained arrogance. He almost has the ring in his grasp. The deal is almost null.
Then a shot rings out.
I cover my ears and fall to the floor, surprised and horrified, looking around to see who was shot. Luka is standing still. My father is standing still. I am the only one who has collapsed.
Then the ring clatters to the ground from my father’s hands as he tumbles down. His knees thud against the concrete floor. Blood blooms across his back.
Luka shot him.
