Page 3 of The Mafia Assassin's Redemption
“How many of you came?”
“Just me, her, and Gerry,” Donal says, “who’s with the car.”
She’s too pale and waxy. I grab his hand and press down on the bleeding right side of her chest. “Get her out of here, find a hospital. Now.”
“But—”
“Save her or I’ll fucking kill you myself.” My gaze cuts to him before I look back at Shiv. Her breaths are short and shallow, eyes closed. I don’t know if she’s going to live. I can hear a car engine start, but I can’t stay here with her. I have to move before I lose more ground.
I kiss her. “Hang in there, Shiv.”
With that, I turn and run, using the Serb’s gun this time to shoot out the tires of the truck behind the wall. I streak around toward the front, a wall of dancing yellow flames giving off sheets of intense heat as a pickup speeds toward me, the man in the passenger seat aiming his gun.
I stop, aim, and shoot. Right through the head. And then I shoot the driver, killing him, too.
I kick open the front door where the flames have entered the house, busily eating at the living room. Smoke curls up, choking me hard. I pull my sweater over my nose, shooting two men who are trying to get out the other way.
I see why.
Tied to a chair, feet in a bucket that looks black with blood, instruments of torture scattered around him, is the bruised, bleeding, and very dead Antonio Federici.
I swallow hard.
Fuck.
My fault, my fault. I should’ve been faster, should’ve left Siobhan. She’d have left me… I?—
An ear-piercing scream ringsout on the floor above me. Before I can move, a bullet almost hits me, but I veer and shoot, taking out the assailant. Flames lick up around him.
Don’t let it be the kid; don’t let it be the kid up there who screamed…
I have morals. I have fucking limits.
But whoever screamed hasn’t made a sound again.
So please don’t let it be the fucking kid.
I take the stairs, two at a time as the flames hiss and crackle behind me, the smoke rising fast.
“We need to go,” someone shouts in accented English.
I kick open the first door.
What I see sickens me.
On the bed are two men and a woman. Elira, Antonio’s wife. She’s naked and bleeding. And a man is fucking her hard. He pumps into her, his hand around her throat. Bile rises in my throat when I see her head is at an abnormal angle, her eyes vacant as they stare at the ceiling.
That sick fuck.
The man near her head reaches for his gun and I shoot him in the stomach, then the head. I do the same to the one fucking her. Then I pull the sheet over the woman’s body and race down the stairs, looking for the kid.
Flames climb the walls and I pull my coat close as I search for the kid.
I don’t find a single soul.
I run down the stairs, head outside, and grab the gasoline canister. I’m about to hurl the contents into the inferno when I hear something.
A whimper.
