Page 41 of Salvatore

Yet, when I think of Gianno’s sweet, smiling face, and consider how far he’s come in just a few short weeks, I can’t in good conscience sit back and wait.

I crank the engine and shift my car into drive, peeling out of the school lot and onto the main road.

The ten minutes it takes me to reach the Block are the longest of my life. I called 9-1-1 again and was able to get through. Yet despite my frantic and detailed call, there are no blaring sirens upon my arrival, no scrambling men and women in uniform, no approaching vehicles. There’s no one besides me.

The old buildings and trees surrounding the basketball court cocoon the area, separating it into a dark urban world of its own. I’m not sure where to park, or if I should even be here. But I can’t abandon Gianno with the hopes that help will eventually arrive. I settle near a busted hydrant and pray that at least a meter maid will arrive to the rescue.

I’m not scared. I’m terrified. I gather my coat around me, buttoning it to the collar to offer me an extra layer of protection. It’s an absurd gesture. I know I’m being insanely stupid and I’m ready to high-tail it back to my car when the escalating voices of kids swearing and fists crunching bone resonate ahead of me.

“Fuck him up. Fuck that bitch up!”

“Yeah. Yeah!”

I was ready to skitter away and hide. Now my boots clomp against the hard sidewalk as I race toward the sounds. My heart almost stops as I skid to stop. Keon is the first one I see in a crowd of swinging fists, lying on the ground holding his side as blood pours down his face.

Gianno busted his face, except now he’s in trouble. He and?oh, my God! ?he and Apollo are being attacked by Keon’s friends.

I lurch forward only to be hauled back. “Hey, baby. Whatcha doing here?” a man sneers against my cheek.

“Get the fuck away from her!” Gianno growls when I scream.

He lunges forward as I struggle to break free, punching an older teen so hard in the nose, I feel the impact from where I stand. Another boy grabs him, and another, until he’s swallowed up by the crowd.

“Aedry!” Apollo yells. His eyes fling open when he sees me being dragged toward the driveway of an old house, his fists swinging wildly as he tries to fight his way to me. But neither he nor Gianno are a match for the number of young teens gathered.

Their anger fires my will. The man holding me swears as the heel of my boot crashes firmly against his shin. I smack him hard across the face.

“How dare you touch me?” I shriek at him.

I dig my hand in my coat and withdraw my stun gun as another hand reaches for me and hauls me back by the crook of my arm.

I don’t hesitate. In one motion I ram my stun gun against his chest and squeeze the trigger.

“Mother fucker.” Salvatore grunts, crashing to the asphalt on his knees.

His T-shirt smokes. “Oh, no. No, no, no,” I stammer. “No, no, no, no.” I crouch next to him. “Are you all right?”

He lifts his glaring face, his jaw tightening as he staggers to his feet. “I told you I would handle this,” he growls.

The man who first grabbed me takes off in a sprint as everything around us grounds to a halt. Slowly, the gang who attacked Apollo and Gianno circle out and away from them, their hardened expressions wary and splitting between fight or flight.

Swelling contusions litter Apollo’s and Gianno’s faces, their shirts dangling in pieces from their frames. As hard as they fought, they weren’t immune to the vicious blows and violence that street kids are ingrained to inflict.

Blood trickles from Gianno’s busted lip and from some scratches to his face, likely wreaked when he was on the ground fighting. Apollo is worse off with a swollen nose and eye, and a longer laceration along his crown line.

At least I think he’s worse off. The stiff and careful way Salvatore stalks toward the large group informs me I may or may not have blasted the hell out of him.

I cover my mouth. Anyone else would be crawling away if moving at all. But, again, Salvatore is very alpha. He won’t show weakness before this pack of wild dogs.

I follow behind him, trying to remain alert.

Keon’s friends rallied against Apollo and Gianno. They do nothing when Sal hauls back and kicks Keon hard in the stomach.

“You know who I am?” Sal snarls, his lethal stare trained on Keon.

Keon squares his swollen jaw, but doesn’t respond, clutching his side harder. I try not to react when Sal kicks him again, yet I can’t help but gasp.

Sal flips him over and presses his large foot against his chest. “I asked you a question, you little bitch.”

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