Page 110 of The Art of Dying

“I’ll go with you. Okay? I’m coming,” I said, walking toward him.

“Mack,” Kitsch groaned, trying to get to his feet.

Mason wrapped his arms around me, kissed my forehead and then my cheek, breathing hard as he looked down into my eyes. If I didn’t know better, it would’ve been easy to believe in that moment that I was truly the love of his life.

“I promise you, I’m different. I promise you won’t regret this a day of your life. I’ve worked so hard to be the man you deserve. I’ve missed you so much, Mack. It’s been killing me. But now you’re here, in my arms, and I’m going to spend the rest of my life making you happy. I need you to believe that.”

“I do,” I said.

He held his breath and grunted; the peaceful, relieved expression on his face instantly transformed to shock. He looked down at the knife handle protruding from his side just under his armpit, firmly in my grip.

I took a staggered breath through my nose, tears streaming down my face. “You threatened my children. You’ve killed my friends. You’ve shot my husband. You’ve made my life hell since the day we met. You want to make me happy? Then just die.”

As he staggered backward, my entire body began to tremble. Mason fell to the ground, his eyes wide, staring up at the ceiling while he gasped for air that would never come. His breaths grew more and more shallow, his body becoming more relaxed, until he finally stilled, the life leaving his eyes.

I rushed to Kitsch, falling to my knees next to him. He’d been shot in nearly the same spot Gina had, but on the opposite side. Blood had pooled beneath him.

“Kitsch?” I yelled, patting his cheek.

“Did we win?” he asked, barely conscious.

I breathed out a laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, we won.”

“The kids okay?”

“They’re okay,” I said, feeling panic overwhelm me. Now that the threat of Mason was gone, a more frightening one had taken its place. Kitsch had no color to his face, even his lips. He was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Blood was pouring from his wound.

I was going to lose my husband.

“I’ll be right back. I need to get something to put pressure on this,” I said. I started to stand, but he held on to my hand.

He shook his head. “I don’t think I’ll be here when you get back. I just,” he breathed. “I just want a kiss from my girl.”

My bottom lip trembled. “Don’t you dare leave me.”

The back door slammed against the wall, and multiple boots stomped against the floor. I pulled my gun, but before I could even aim, I saw several police in SWAT gear moving toward me.

“Don’t shoot, Mack!” John called from behind them.

Once the officers saw Mason on the ground, they cleared the area before calling in the paramedics.

My hands fell to my thighs, and I began to sob. John stood next to me, bearing my weight.

“You okay, Mrs. Kitsch? When you never showed, I figured it was a good time to call in the calvary.”

“We got another one!” Police called, directing more paramedics to Gina.

Apollo was lying next to her but backed away to let the paramedics attend to his human, as if he knew they were there to help.

A paramedic kneeling over Mason stood and pulled off his gloves. “This one’s gone.”

“Good,” I said, letting an officer take the gun from my hand.

Gina was on a stretcher and being rushed out the door before they completed Kitsch’s IVs, and sirens blared from just outside the building, getting further away before he was loaded onto his own stretcher.

“The woman’s in bad shape,” one of the officers said to John.

“Karen? I’m Jackie. Let’s get you seated,” a paramedic said to me.

---