Page 97 of InfraRed

We stand there for what feels like centuries, my patience running thin. Having enough, I try to slip around, only to barely miss getting hit.

“Fuck!” I hiss, ripping my hand through my hair. “I’ve got to getin there to her.”

“I’ve got you,fratello,”Sebastian reloads his gun, then darts around the SUV, drawing fire toward him.

“Son of a bitch is going to get himself killed,” Henry murmurs, following behind Bastian despite his comment as I move to the opposite end.

“Don’t you know?” Christian says, stepping out of the vehicle and following behind Henry. “He’s immortal,” He growls as he drips sarcasm.

The door to the plane is unobstructed, and I race to it quickly, firing at those around me. I’m not sure how many men this guy brought, but it’s more than six for sure. I hit two just as I dive for the stairs leading into the plane. More gunfire makes me dive into the plane. Bullets pierce through the fabric missing me, but the familiar sound of clicking tells me whoever is firing has run out.

I look at Will, who ducked in behind me, then cautiously look around the seats. There are two men close to Will and me loading guns. We both nod to each other, raise up, and fire, killing them both instantly.

I’ve got my gun aimed at another, ready to fire when I see Krista dragging Casey through the front exit. I pull the trigger, only to hear the telltale click, and Will’s does the same.

“Fuck,” I mutter. “Krista has Casey.” I rip my hands through my hair. The firing outside the plane hasn’t subsided at all. “I’ve got to go after her.”

He nods. “Load. On three, we run out of here.”

I reach into my coat and retrieve another clip. Quietly, I slide out the empty and reload.

“It’s been a while, Guglielmo. I thought you were dead.” I lookover at Will, curiosity pulling my brow.

“That’s not my name, and you knew I wasn’t dead, motherfucker,” Will replies as he reloads his gun silently as I did.

“You should just give up.” He fires, another bullet piercing through the seat I’m ducked behind. “I know you’re empty. Aren’t you tired of your pathetic existence yet?” the man taunts, his voice getting closer. “No family. No woman.”

Will’s face morphs to rage the longer the man talks. He cranks his neck from one side to the other as he inhales, then looks at me. “One, two, three,” he mouths as he raises and fires as I leap behind him, back through the door. I follow Krista’s retreating form as she heads right for the empty SUV. My heart slams against my ribs as I watch Casey fight against her mother’s hold. Bullets fly around us from the rapid-fire weapons as I chase after them. I feel a bullet rip through me, going clean through, sending fire through my arm as another whizzes past me and strikes Krista. When she stumbles, my speed increases, hoping Casey will seize the opportunity to break free. My breath catches in my lungs when she’s hit again.

The world stops moving when I watch Casey fall to the ground, then Krista on top of her. Bullets continue to bounce all around them. My voice breaks as I call out to her but is muffled by the sound of the jet engine firing. Gravel and concrete rip through my pants, digging into my flesh as I slide to where they fell.

I shove Krista off Casey’s body, barely registering the shouts and screams around me or that the plane is taking off.

And when I see the dark stain of blood on the fabric of her crimson dress, pain ricochets through my body. I crumble as a piece of me dies with her.

Casey

Pain radiates through my body from my knees to my nose. My lungs feel constricted from the weight on top of me. Dirt buries itself in my eyes despite being closed, making them feel like fire. My throat feels like I’ve swallowed razor blades from screaming without being heard over the sound of shouting and gunfire.

The heavy weight is lifted from my back, allowing my lungs to expand with welcome oxygen. The bindings around my hands are released, and blood returns to my numb limbs as I’m flipped on my back. Rough hands cup my face as soft sobs break through the ringing in my ears caused by the gunfire that seems to have ceased.

Graham.

“Open your eyes, Sunflower,” he brushes his fingers over my forehead, pushing strands of hair away. His touch is like a feather stroking me, but it brings much-needed comfort.I’m okay.“Please open your eyes, baby.”

My grime-coated lashes peel apart, fighting through the sting and the burn of the dirt scraping my eyes. Through muck and a haze of tears, I find his dark eyes staring at me. My heart stumbles and stutters at the sight of the man in front of me, full of torment and pain. Devastation lines his eyes. Anguish pulls his mouth.

I’ve known Graham Davis since I was ten years old.

He was the boy that let me use his phone to call my dad. When I was the girl with no friends and no escape from the loneliness, he spent his free time with me, taking me to the park, the mall, concerts… He made sure I found my escape.

He sat in the seats at every recital for years as my biggest cheerleader. He wiped away my tears when my mom made me feel worthless, telling me I was everything.

I’ve seen him happy and sad, laughing and raging. He’s always strong, stoic… brave.

Not once have I ever seen him cry.

But tears stream down his sharp features, staining his cheeks as he lifts me to his chest, burying his stubbled face in my neck.

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