Page 118 of Star Crossed
Jules dashed up to him, grabbed a 12-gauge shotgun, and asked in a panicked voice. “You’resureit’s Frankie?” Crouched behind the bed, she tucked another gun into the back of her jeans. “Absolutely sure?”
“I’m sure.” Romeo pointed a 9mm at the door that he realized now he hadn’t closed fully due to that damn dent in the side of it.
He would have rushed to close it, but Frankie’s crew was already there. The pounding of shoes echoing down the hallway ended with the door being jerked open. As the lights from the motel parking lot suddenly flooded the dimly lit room, the double click of a shotgun shell being forced into the chamber preceded a blast that nearly deafened Romeo. He stared in horror as Alberto Moretti flew back against the railing with a gaping, grisly hole in his chest. The blood spread over the cement floor in the hallway and splattered the door frame. There was so much of it. Romeo could hardly comprehend that his wife had just mutilated Gino’s father.
They were all shocked. Every Italian in that small area including Romeo just gaped at the destruction. Al was a made man; you didn’t just blow him away without thinking about it first, but someone had, and she wasn’t nearly as surprised about it as they were. In that one-second pause of stunned disbelief, the metallic slide of a shotgun reloading was all the warning they had before she took out Frankie’s best friend, Johnny Napoli.
The destruction was gorier the second time. Jules aimed for the chest, and she didn’t miss. The shock didn’t last as long as Romeo would have liked. Covered in their friend’s blood, the rest of Frankie’s crew stormed in and took advantage of their strength in numbers.
The entire room exploded around them. Glass shattered. Wood splintered. The first ten seconds of the attack felt slow, every instant painting an image in his mind, but now there was too much happening to process any of it. It would have been impossible for anyone, even Nova. All Romeo could focus on was firing as many times as possible, his finger pumping the trigger, his heart jolting when a cry of pain told him he hit his mark.
Despite the chaos Romeo actually saw Frankie aim for Jules, as if his inner sensors were hypersensitive to it, knowing Frankie would cut him where it hurt. Bullets started hitting that small place by the nightstand where Jules was crouched next to Romeo. They pelted the bed, sending stuffing everywhere. He felt the first one hit her body, the impact of it forcing her into him, but she still had a hold of the shotgun. Another click and a huge hole in Rico Cagnini’s stomach told him she wasn’t dead yet.
In the next heartbeat a lamp on the nightstand exploded next to them, and Jules cried out. Romeo couldn’t stand her being a target anymore, even if she did take out half the guys attacking them. While still firing, he grabbed her arm with his left hand, using all his strength to pull her down. He heard thecrackof her head hitting the nightstand, could feel the lifelessness in her body as the shotgun fell to the side. Thepop, pop, popof the bullets stopped long enough for him to look down and see Jules sprawled out on the floor. There was an obvious bullet wound in her shoulder, pumping blood over her pale skin and staining her white bra. Another pool of blood was spreading by her head too quickly to be minor. Her ponytail was soaking it up as the puddle grew, turning her hair a vibrant red, and something about that image put him over the edge.
Frankie had ruined his life for the last time.
Romeo wanted him to die.
He pushed away from the bed and scrambled to his feet. Something hit him hard in the chest, but rather than fall, he retaliated by putting a hole in Vito Sacco, who fell to his knees, his hands clutching the red stain on his side. Seeing that he and Frankie were the last two standing, Romeo threw his gun down. He launched himself at the man who’d made his life hell since he was six. The two of them fell against the wall before Romeo slammed his fist into Frankie’s face.
He could feel the bone breaking under his knuckles, and it felt so good he pulled his arm back, wanting to do it over and over again until nothing about him looked like Nova. Something hit him in the lower back before he could, and the pain of it made bright white spots appear in his vision. He stumbled back, reaching blindly for the wound as he fell to his knees simply because his legs couldn’t hold up against the agony.
Frankie raised his gun, pointing it at Romeo’s head, and he knew in that moment that he hadn’t jumped from behind the safety of the bed wanting Frankie to die—he’d done it knowing Jules was bleeding to death.
Romeo closed his eyes, welcoming death, wondering which of them would make it to the other side first. He hadn’t read the story since ninth grade, he’d forgotten, but it didn’t matter because thepopof a gun echoed in the room.
Romeo fell onto his back, still feeling very much alive. The pain was dazzling, blocking out every thought except needing it to end. He blinked in confusion, fighting the deafening throb of his heartbeat to see Frankie fall. The world darkened at the edges as Romeo stared at the younger, angrier version of Frankie still standing. As if he’d come back from the past, only bigger and badder than Romeo remembered him. His 9mm pointed in Romeo’s direction, another gunshot, and again nothing but the grim pain of life instead of the welcoming peace of death.
Instead Vito Sacco screamed, his yells echoing off the walls before a third shot was fired, silencing him. The agony was so intense Romeo was jealous, knowing Vito beat him to the other side.
Juliet had to have died first. That’s how the story went.
Romeo closed his eyes, his death much quieter than Vito’s. He could barely breathe past the pain, let alone cry out.
Sirens were wailing everywhere.
But they faded to the background behind the pained screaming that filled the air, reminding Romeo of a child instead of Frankie, and he opened his eyes to see Nova over him. Instead of the grim image of his father, Romeo saw him as he was much younger, crying the day their mother died. Angrier and more furious than Romeo or Tino, he’d shouted and broken things for hours after they took her body away despite knowing for a long time that the end was coming. At thirteen Nova hadn’t realized he couldn’t prevent her death. He’d held out hope until her last breath, not understanding some things couldn’t be solved with a photographic memory.
“NO!” Nova was sobbing, shaking as he leaned over Romeo. His hands were red. He had a wild, frantic look on his face, as if there was a problem he couldn’t fix and he couldn’t handle it. “NO! NO! PLEASE, ROME! PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME!”
Romeo wanted to tell him sorry. He wanted to hug his little brother and give him a reason to stop screaming. He fought against the pain, struggling for one word to soothe him, but he never found a way.
The world felt gray. Everything around him was fuzzy and hazed, making Romeo feel like he was watching Nova being pulled off him through distant tunnel vision. He blinked to see him flat on his stomach, two cops struggling to subdue him, but Nova fought against it. Still screaming, he reached out a hand to Romeo, as if touching him one more time would fix it.
He wanted to give Nova what he needed, but the throb of his heartbeat in his ears slowed, lulling him into something like sleep, and he gave in to it.
Romeo chose Juliet instead.
