Page 36 of Unsettled
Two… I adjust my grip on my gun again.
One…
We burst into the room, three weapons pointed at Court, while, like Hollis said, he only has the one.
He's standing in the space between the two Bosses, who are both shackled to the wall. A quick assessment tells me the thick manacles would be difficult to get out of—not impossible, but it'll take evenmea while. Looks like Cristian is going back into lock picking lessons, Il Padrone too.
Court smiles at us, an unhinged look in his eyes. He's unimpressive. If it weren't for the fuckery he and his men have put us through, I would never have pegged him as a threat.
Everything from his ill-fitting suit, to his sweat-damp brown hair, is average.
“About fucking time,” Cristian says, though there's a wobble to his voice that I don't like. I can't risk looking away from Court to check on him, though. “I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about us.”
I laugh. “Turns out, I missed how annoying you are, so figured I might as well come save you.”
“Shut up!” Court yells. “You think this is funny? That this is all some big joke?”
“Well…” I drawl. “Itisthree against one, and if you managed to get past us, I don't think you'd even step foot across the threshold before you're gunned down.”
“Are we sure?” Il Padrone asks. “I think my Boys need a lesson in… everything, if this is how they operate on their own.”
Emilio’s body practically vibrates as he leans toward his Master, though he doesn't make a move.
“I will shoot him,” Court warns, either reading Emilio’s body language correctly, or making an estimated guess of the boy’s thought process.
“You think I haven't been shot before?” Il Padrone asks. “I'm not afraid of you, or your bullets.”
Court’s hand is steady as he sets his finger on the trigger.
“It doesn't have to get bloody,” I tell him. “While I, and many other people here, would love to paint the walls with your blood, this can be a nice and easy thing.”
“Fuck easy. These bastards have had it easy!”
“Right…” Cristian says with heavy sarcasm, his voice still soundingoffto my ears. “Because being starved and mutilated are easy things to endure.”
“It's what you cop and child killers deserve!”
Hopefully, Court’s voice carries over the comms, because I havenoidea what the fucker is referring to. Cops? Sure, they're fair game. But kids? Everyone with a lick of right and wrong knows not to touch them, even on this side of the law-abiding line.
“Can we just shoot him?” Emilio asks.
“Only if you want your precious Boss to die as well,” Court spits, raising his gun slightly, so it no longer points at Il Padrone’s chest, fixed on his head instead.
“I'm already wounded,” Cristian says, which causes Roman to move a fraction of a step. “Shoot me instead.”
Court spins on his heel, almost too quickly to track, but I'm already moving. It's too late when I finally see his plan unfold. “No.” His words are a distant thrum in my violence-soaked brain. “I have a better target in mind.”
Changing trajectory while already in motion is a skill I've achieved through years of training. But it doesn't mean I'm always quick enough.
Four gunshots go off, echoing around the small room.
Two hit their mark, one goes wide, and one rips right through me, as I throw myself in front of Roman.
As I hit the floor, my only thought is:I knew I'd die for the little shit one day.
Everything seems to happen in slow motion. What takes seconds, feels as if it’s hours. Tennant’s change of trajectory, the sound of gunshots echoing around the concrete room, Dad and Il Padrone’s shouts of protest… None of them make any sense to me, not when both Ten and Lio hit the floor.
Instinct has me firing my gun, but it’s too late.It’s too fucking late.
