Page 61 of Bastard Prince
I made my way down the hall toward the front of the house, the two guest bedrooms both being as far from the main living areas as possible. Rosa had begged off of helping me cook this morning, claiming that she had some online schoolwork that she needed to complete and it would be best done in the privacy of her room.
As I approached her door, I could hear the low murmur of her voice, harsh whispers that sounded both angry and afraid at the same time. It went quiet, as though she had stopped to listen, so I assumed she was on the phone, arguing with someone. After a moment, her hushed words started up again, muffled through the door. Pausing outside, I pressed my ear close, trying to catch a few words, but nothing was clear enough to understand.
Frowning at the closed door, I knocked. Something didn’t feel right. “Rosa?”
Silence.
Knocking again, louder this time, I called, “Rosa? Breakfast is ready. The guys are all in the kitchen. You should come join us.”
When I still heard nothing, I placed my hand on the cool door handle and turned, pushing the door open slowly. “Rosa, are you alright? I’m coming in.”
The room was almost dark, the tightly drawn curtains bathing the space in shadows. I could see the bed was unmade, the jeans and top Rosa had been wearing during her bus ride tossed in a pile near the dresser. Across the room, the bathroom light was on, the sliver of yellow light that peeked out under the closed door drawing me to it like a moth to a flame.
“Rosa?” I said softly, pressing the bathroom door open slowly. “Rosa, do you need—”
Movement out of the corner of my eye had me freezing, and I turned, seeing Rosa standing in the darkened walk-in closet to my left. Her face was crumpled in agony and her shoulders shook with sobs.
“Rosa, honey. What’s wrong?” I stepped toward her but was immediately halted when Rosa—my sweet, gentle Rosa—raised her arms and pointed a gun at my face.
“Rosa? What is the meaning of this?” I asked calmly, seeing the barrel of the gun tremble as her entire body shook. Instinctively, I raised my hands, letting her know I was unarmed. “Rosa, tell me what is going on. You know I’m here to help you.”
“You can’t help me, Frankie,” she wailed, tears streaming down her cheeks as she walked toward me, her tentative steps bringing her farther into the light from the bathroom. “I’m sorry, but this is the only way.”
“What are you talking about? Please, just tell me what’s wrong, and I swear to you, I will fix it.” I pleaded, hoping to Christ I could get the gun away from her before someone came looking for us. The last thing I needed was for one of those brutes in the kitchen to come busting in here and startle the poor girl into pulling the trigger.
“He’s making me do it, Frankie,” she sobbed quietly, both hands now on the grip of the small snub nosed revolver. The gun looked like it was older than me, and I wondered where the hell she had even gotten the damn thing. “He said that if I came here, if I did it, then I would be free.” Rosa took a slow, shuddering breath. “I won’t let them do to me what they do to everyone else.”
I had no idea what she was talking about, but I could see from the way her tears came faster and faster that I was losing control of the situation—if I had ever had it in the first place.
“Rosa, I would never let anything happen to you.” I moved a slow step closer to her, seeing her eyes widen when I started to lower my hands. “You’re safe here, with us. Whatever is going on, I promise we can make it right. Just give me the gun.”
“No!” she shrieked, and I jumped at the sudden loudness of her voice. “Stay back. Just—just stay there and let me...” Her thumb stretched up, pulling back the hammer with a deafening click.
“Rosa, please,” I said, my heart-rate climbing, and despite my outwardly calm appearance, I was starting to freak the fuck out. “You don’t want to do this.”
“I don’t want to do any of this,” she said earnestly, her chest heaving as she tried to breathe through her tears. “But this is the only way.”
I stared from her tormented face to the barrel of the gun and back, not liking how looking into that empty black abyss at the end of the revolver made me feel. It wasn’t the fist time I’d had a gun pointed at me—shit, it wasn’t even the first time this year. But Rosa was volatile, and that made this situation more dangerous than any of the previous ones.
I needed her to look at me, to really see that I wasn’t a threat to her.
Slowly, I backed away from her, casting a desperate look around, but I was trapped, stuck between the large guest bed and the far back wall of the bedroom, the door to the hallway looking like it was miles away. With Rosa’s shaking body between me and my only exit, I tried again to reason with her.
“If you would just put the gun down, we can talk about this and—”
“Francesca?” Enzo’s booming voice as he called down the hall for me was followed shortly by Rosa’s scream as she jumped sky high, her panicked finger squeezing the trigger in reflex. The sound of the gunshot was loud in the small bedroom, leaving my ears ringing. The drywall beside my head gave off a puff of dust as the round narrowly missed its mark, and for a split second, I was certain I was dead.
“Oh, my god!” Rosa squealed, her eyes wide, but she never let go of the gun.
I heard the stomping footsteps just seconds before the bedroom door banged open, Enzo and Vinnie both barreling in to the small space with their own weapons out.
“Francesca!” Enzo raged. “What the fuck?”
“Stay back!” Rosa screamed, swinging the gun wildly from one side of the room to the other, trying to cover both guys and me at the same time. “I mean it!”
“The fuck I will,” Enzo growled, taking a step forward, but Vinnie stopped him with a hand on his arm. The look Enzo tossed at Vinnie said that he would be paying for that later.
Vinnie’s face was completely dumbfounded and white with panic. “Rosa,” he said softly. “What are you doing?”
