Page 81 of Twilight Mask

There are other men in sunglasses scattered around the room. They all have guns, and they’re shooting too, and for a second I think the Biancos are fucked, they’re dead, they didn’t plan this properly?—

Until more men with guns pour into the room. These are in full tactical gear: flak jackets, helmets, AR-15 rifles. The noise is incredible as they return fire, and the men in sunglasses scatter to find cover. The room is a nightmare of blood and broken bodies, and so much fucking screaming.

I watch as Adam takes a bullet to the knee and buckles. He staggers, trying to get out of the way, but another bullet hits him in the chest. He roars, still shooting. Somewhere, Simon Bianco and his brothers have to be dead. They have to be. But I can’t see them anymore as Adam falls onto his side, his blood drenching the floor in waves.

“Come on,” I shout and push myself up. Laura moves with me. Her mask is knocked askew, the mask I brought for her to change into, along with the insanely thin slacks and the blouse I had balled up and shoved into my pants. It was comical, but whatever, it worked and it got her here, nearly at the door, and nearly to freedom.

“Marco,” she says as I drag her up, keeping low. “Marco!”

“I have you,” I tell her, jerking my mask off so she can see my face, then we’re running together. More shouting, more screams and gunfire. I step in Adam’s blood and so does Laura. I shove her ahead and she staggers, but she keeps going, good girl, smart girl, as I look down at my former ally, my nearly friend.

Adam’s eyes are open but he’s not moving.

Dead. Gone.

I force myself away. There’s more yelling, but the gunshots are tapering off now. I have no clue what happened to the rest of the attackers. Were they Adam’s men? Were they Dusan, Julien, and Ronan? And what about Valentina? And what about the Bianco brothers?

None of that matters. I run to the end of the hall where Laura’s waiting with the door open. She looks so fucking beautiful, but there’s no time. I grab her wrist and drag her out the door.

“My family,” she says, digging her heels in once we’re outside. “Marco, wait. My family?—”

“You can’t help them,” I say and pull her against me. She sobs once, twice, and I hug her tight. “We have to go.” I step away, but she doesn’t move.

Her eyes are locked on the door and tears stream down her face. “I can’t,” she whispers. Then, louder: “I have to go back.”

“Laura.” It breaks my heart. “I can’t follow you. I don’t know what they’ll think about me after that.”

“You have to keep going.” She runs to me and kisses me. It’s a hard kiss, one that means something. It’s a promise. “Get out of here. I’ll find you, I promise.”

“Laura—”

“I love you.” She kisses me again. “I love both of you.”

“We love you too.” I hold her, bury her mouth with mine, hating myself and this situation with everything I have, but she’s right. If I go in there, there’s no guarantee the Biancos won’t do something stupid. I don’t know what Angelo told his brothers after I warned him about this attack, and even if they know I’m the one that tipped them off that something might happen, they could still blame me anyway. Right now, things are too volatile. “I love you, Laura. I’ll come back.”

She yanks herself away, crying, and hurries to the door. I hate this, I hate it, but it’s her family in there. It’s always been her family. I watch her disappear back inside and a piece of me dies in that moment, withers away, rots into nothing, and I force myself to disappear into the crowd of terrified onlookers.

Chapter 40

Laura

Ihead back inside, numb. I want to turn around and go with Marco, but if I leave right now when my brothers could be lying dead, I’ll never forgive myself. The rest of my family would never forgive me, and I couldn’t even blame them.

The room’s quieter. There’s talking, a few shouted orders, but there’s no more gunfire. The big dead man near the back hall is still lying in a pool of his own blood, his sunglasses cracked and broken, askew on his face. I step over him, but leave red, sticky footprints, as I stare around the space until I spot Angelo.

He’s kneeling beside two unmoving bodies.

“No,” I whisper, feeling sick. I stumble toward him. “No, no, no.” I stare in horror, numb and ugly horror, as he reaches up to touch Simon’s mask.

The face behind it isn’t right.

I open my mouth, not sure what I’m seeing. Angelo removes Davide’s mask, and that face is all wrong too. Then I realize:

Body doubles.

They were body doubles.

I force myself to move over to Angelo. He looks exhausted, his head hanging forward, and doesn’t look up as I crouch next to him. “We knew it was coming,” he says softly. “I warned these two. I told them they’d be the target, but they were loyal. Peter and Vincenzo. Good men, both of them. I’ll make sure their families are taken care of.”

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