Page 74 of Shadows of Justice

He’s going to kill me.

When I’m so close to safety.

He mounts me, sticking a gun under my chin. Unable to fight him, I stare up into his mangled, scarred eye socket. The sickening glee on his face is a promise—that all of his waiting has been worth it, to now finally have me at his mercy. He leans forward, bringing his mouth close to my ear so that I can feel the words leave his mouth.

“Did you really think your amigos could kill me, gatita?” He chuckles and I tremble beneath him, chilled by the thought that his sick voice will be the last thing I ever hear. “You can’t kill the Devil. And now, you’ll be mine to play with forever—en el Infierno.”

He leans back, his smile and his harrowing decree to be imprinted on my soul as I pass into the next life. I feel the vibration as he pulls back on the hammer, cocking the pistol against my chin. A shot rings out, but instead it’s his head that snaps to the side, his gaze on me turning blank. Red spray and chunks fly, and his body falls limply off of mine.

I turn toward the source of the shot, and a fully armored SWAT member comes toward me, flanked by two more. Between their helmets and the smoke I can’t see who they are, but I don’t care. I release a sob of relief, stunned that my body can produce any more tears.

My savior makes a beeline for me, swinging his rifle on its strap over his shoulder. He kneels beside me and removes his helmet, effectively sending me into a whole new storm of emotions.

“Dad?”

“I’m here, Vivvie,” he says, his hands hovering over my body as he takes me in, like he’s unsure where he can touch me without inflicting more pain. “I’m here now.”

The ringing in my ears is starting to fade, and I’m so glad I can hear his voice. I sob, the motion in my sore abdomen and chest like knives as my splintered ribs press against soft tissue. I can’t believe he’s really here. I can’t believe that this torture is over.

“I’m so sorry, Dad,” I say, unsure if he can even understand me through my crying.

“Shhh,” he says. “Hush now. You’re safe.” He reaches up to grip my wrists, and starts to bring my still-bound arms down in front of me. I scream in pain, even the slightest movement like splintering bone.

“Okay, okay,” he says in a placating tone, and barks at the officer behind him to get EMTs inside. “We’re gonna get you fixed up, Vivvie, don’t worry.”

A single shot breaks through the peace and stills the fluttering heart in my chest. My father’s hands on my skin squeeze tightly, and his eyes go as round as saucers. He jerks, his back arching, and a groan escapes his lips.

“No!” I scream, as he drops onto me. I can’t even reach for him, my useless arms still stuck in the same damned position. “No-no-no-no!”

The other two officers turn and return fire. Over my father’s slumped form, I see Trismo smiling broadly, gun in hand, shark teeth glinting amidst the haze. The last image I see is of him jerking erratically on the floor as innumerable bullets tear through his body.

Then the numbness swallows me, and I’m lost to the world.

Chapter Twenty-Four - Renewal

Sunday, August 2nd

My name—it’s Grace.

Hush now. You’re safe.

Alma mía, serás mi fin.

Blurry forms bustle around above me. I hear voices, but understand no words. The lights are blinding, and the sudden cacophony of sounds is a confusing, suffocating weight on my chest. My limbs still feel so heavy—like I’m still bound, my body at the mercy of my enemies. I thrash, pulse climbing, thoughts of being trapped and kept against my will overtaking all logic. Murmured tones shush and soothe, and a warmth trickles up my arm.

Detached bliss engulfs me again.

I crack open my eyes and thankfully, the room is dimly lit.

The moon shines in through the open window, the sky as clear as glass. Beeping machines watch over me from above, IVs and monitors at attention and hooked to me with endless chords and tubing. A slight weight presses onto my left knee, and a dark head of hair accompanies it.

“Leo?”

The sound of my murmur hardly breaks through the gravel of my voice. The head lifts swiftly, and a different brown pair of eyes greet me than expected.

“Vivvie,” Justine says with a watery gaze. “Ay, Dios mío.”

She rises, clutching my battered hand with perfectly manicured fingers. She leans forward and kisses me on the forehead, sniffling and wiping underneath her eyes.

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