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“Big Al…” I mumbled as I pointed to a room. Inside, I could see a woman lying crumpled in a pool of blood.
“Fuck!” Big Al said, shoving me behind him.
Chance glanced in and flinched.
“That’s Willa, Whiskey’s girl,” Chance whispered.
The brothers split up and crept through the silent house.
“Protect Tati,” Big Al ordered Shee and moved away, taking Chance’s tail. Shee nudged me into the living room with Willa.
“Could she still be alive?” I asked. Shee and I swapped glances and approached carefully. Willa lay on her back with her legs twisted to one side. Her eyes were open and staring at me, and I put a palm to my mouth to muffle a sob.
“Tati, check for a pulse. Honey, I can’t take my eye off the door,” Shee muttered. Slowly, I got to my knees and reached out. I snatched my hand back in fear before gathering my courage and placing a finger on her throat. I waited a few seconds and then shook my head before letting out a scream as Willa’s arm lifted and she grabbed my wrist.
“Tati!” Big Al yelled from somewhere, and I heard a pounding of footsteps.
“Willa, we’ll get help,” I said as she gripped my wrist with surprising strength.
“Saw them…” Willa croaked.
I cupped her face, offering comfort.
“Willa, you saw who did this?” Chance demanded, landing on his knees next to me and making me jump.
“Beaker… Hambone… Spider, Hound… Matches and Grinder. Three old ladies… Queeny, Pixie, India,” Willa whispered.
“We’ll get the assholes, Willa, I swear,” Chance promised.
“Upstairs… the kidlets…” Willa croaked.
“The kids are safe, Willa; Whiskey died protecting them. Rest now, sweet girl; you and your man saved them,” Chance responded.
Willa’s eyes closed, and her hand released my wrist and fell to the ground.
“Is she dead?” I sobbed unaware tears were streaming down my face.
“Yes,” Chance replied, sorrow and anger warring in his tone. I began scrambling to my feet, and Chance looked at me. “Where are you going, Tati?”
“There’re children upstairs. They need a woman’s touch,” I responded, trying to wipe the tears from my eyes.
“Oh honey,” Chance whispered. His voice said it all.
“They killed them?” I cried, my knees buckling.
“Chaser had three kids. The two boys, fourteen and twelve, assholes put bullets in them. Someone played with the girl before she died,” Big Al added hollowly.
“How old was she?” I screeched.
“Tati, this shit you don’t need in your head,” Chance exclaimed.
“How old was she?” I yelled again.
“Eight,” Sunny revealed from behind me. “Mia was eight.”
Oh God, I stared at Chance in horror. No! I flung myself away from them and curled into a ball in the corner. What type of cruel, unjust world allowed terrible men like that to live?
“Willa was shot first; Whiskey was upstairs. He went down hard, but he hit somebody or several as there’s blood on the stairs. And someone was dragged down away with them. Chaser’s Amy was next in the kitchen; she also took one out. And Chaser was gunned down in the yard. Saint was by his side. The kids were last. Looks like the eldest tried to save them, and then the second boy tried to save Mia,” Sunny explained to Chance.
