Page 70 of Twisted Union

“We’ve got to go,” Viktor says, grabbing my arm as Franco stalks toward us. Even from here, I can see when he grabs his gun. “Gemma!”

“Ok, ok.” I have to make a decision, and I decide to follow Viktor. We run in the opposite direction. When I look over my shoulder, I see Franco chasing us. He bumps into a woman who shouts at him, but he just shoves her away, his gaze focused on my husband and me.

Viktor wraps his hand around mine as we turn a corner. A man pushing a slushie cart passes in front of us, and Viktor manages to jump over it, but I don’t. I slam into the cart and fall on my ass.

The slushie cart man leans down and asks, “Are you ok?”

Viktor runs back to me, helping me up. “We’re ok,” he answers for me.

The loud sound of gunfire goes off, and a bullet lands in the cart. The man screams, jumping back as other people scream, too.

I look over my shoulder and see Franco nearing us, his gun pointed at us.

“Time to move,” Viktor mutters, hauling me up. We run faster down the boardwalk; Franco hot on our heels. Viktor shoves people out of our way. When the innocent civilians get an understanding of what’s happening, they jump out of the way and hunker down, trying to avoid the shooter. It only takes about a minute for the police to show up.

Two officers run down the boardwalk, yelling at Franco to drop his gun. Viktor doesn’t slow down, even when the officers pass us by. I look back to see what’s happening. Franco is stopped by the police and is talking to them and pointing frantically at Viktor and me. One of them grabs Franco and pins him to the ground, making him drop his gun.

I smirk. I’ve always wanted to see Franco get in trouble for being the asshole that he is. It’s sweet justice, if you ask me.

The only problem is I’m still running and not watching where I’m going.

I stumble when my feet land on air, and I drop, falling down a staircase. Viktor tries helping me, but I land on the ground with a hard thud. My head hits the ground, and a piercing pain zips up my temple and over the back of my head. When I reach behind my head, my fingers come back spotted with blood. That’s not good.

“Gemma!” Viktor rushes to my side. I’ve never seen him look so scared. I guess he meant it when he said he’s falling in love with me.

Darkness slowly fills the edges of my vision. I don’t think that’s a good sign, either. I hear shouting, and I try to look up, but I can’t move my head. My mom is running toward me. I can just make her out before Viktor scoops me into his arms and runs, my vision going blacker by the second.

I manage to look back and see Mom talking to one of the police officers. She points at me and Viktor. The officer turns toward us and shouts at Viktor to stop running. Viktor doesn’t listen to him.

The last thing I see before everything goes black is Viktor telling me I’m going to be ok.

* * *

The last wordsmy dad ever said to me were this: “Never let anyone change you, Gem.”

It was the day before he died, and we were in the living room together, just the two of us. My dad, Riccardo Moretti, had always been strong, with his broad shoulders and a jawline that could cut anything. So, it was hard to see him so weak. His illness took a toll on his body. His once full head of hair was thinning. His broad shoulders looked slumped and drawn inward. His one handsome face was wracked with sickness.

I told myself I wouldn’t cry, but I did. “Dad, don’t talk like you’re going anywhere, ok? You could still have months or even years yet.”

He squeezed my hand as best he could, his strength almost gone. “I don’t have much time left. I know how much you and your mother fight. You need be strong when I’m gone and try to make things easier on her.”

“But you just told me to never change.”

“I did. And I don’t want you to change who you are at your core.” He pressed his finger against my chest, the spot above my heart. “But you can maybe try and be nicer to your mom.”

“She starts a lot of it,” I muttered.

“Gemma.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I love you. Out of all my daughters, you’re the most like me. Passionate, doesn’t back down when you want something. But things are going to be different after I’m gone, and I need to know you and your mom will be ok.”

“Emilia will make sure she’s ok.”

“I know she will. But I’m asking for you to do it, too. Ok?”

“Whatever,” I muttered. “Fine. I’ll try.”

“Thank you.”

And that was the last conversation I ever had with my dad. He died in the middle of the night. I never said goodbye. But the most shameful part of it was that I didn’t keep my promise.

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