rushed through him, so furious his stomach churned, his chest burning with every breath forced into his lungs. People still ran. Others still screamed. His head grew fuzzy. He couldn't think.
He needed to think.
Civello lay on the sidewalk in a pool of blood. Gavin paced around, fidgeting, his gun tucked back away, his skin ashen.
"Genna?" Matteo's voice was frantic. "Genna, baby, there's blood on you."
"What?" Genna asked. "I'm not, I mean…"
Dante blinked rapidly, bile burning his throat, engulfing his chest. He saw it, the smear of blood on her arm, transferred from her black shirt. Matteo tugged at her clothes, searching for injuries.
"I'm fine," Genna insisted, looking down. "I, uh… oh shit, I think my water might've broke."
"The blood," Matteo said, stressing the word. "Where's the blood coming from?"
"I don't know." She raised her hands. "I don't think it's mine."
"Dante…" Gabriella's calm voice cut through as she carefully approached, grasping his arm. "Dante, I need you to sit down."
Dante turned, holding her gaze for a moment, seeing a familiar concern that greeted him every day for weeks. Nurse Russo. He blinked a few times before looking down, noticing the dark spot spreading over the blue shirt along the side of his chest. He didn't feel it so much yet, the flood of adrenaline diluting the pain, but knowledge clicked in a hell of a lot quicker. Reaching up, he pressed his hand to the spot, grimacing, blood streaking his fingertips. "I think it's mine."
Gabriella tugged on him, trying to lead him to the building, but the first step he took made his head swim. Woozy. He swayed, vision fading, and grabbed ahold of the car to steady himself.
"I…" Dante hesitated. "I need to sit down."
He leaned back against the car and slid down to the sidewalk, blood gushing from the wound when he moved, stabbing pain raiding from it.
He grasped the spot, wincing.
"I need something!" Gabriella shouted. "A towel or a rag or a shirt, something."
Gavin stepped over, still sickeningly pale, pulling off his suit coat. Gabriella snatched it from him, tearing Dante's hands away from the wound to press the fabric against it.
"Hold this right here," Gabriella ordered, looking at Gavin. "Press hard. I need to run up to the apartment and grab some stuff."
Gavin obliged, and Gabriella started to leave, but Dante grabbed her arm, stopping her. "Wait…"
"We don't have time to wait," she said. "The quicker we get your bleeding stopped, the better."
"His gun." Dante motioned to the pistol tucked in Gavin's waistband. "Get rid of it."
"That's not important right now," Gavin muttered.
"The hell it isn't," Dante said. "It needs gone before the police come."
Gavin started to argue when Gabriella snatched it out of his waistband, concealing it in her coat as she ran inside. Once she was gone, Gavin shook his head. "Your dumb ass is sitting here bleeding and you're more worried about me going to jail? Who's the sentimental bitch now?"
Dante laughed, wincing as it caused pain to tear through him. "Mandatory minimums. Having that gun when they show up will get you an automatic three and a half years at Rikers."
"Ouch."
"Tell me about it," Dante muttered, looking down at his chest. "I can't believe this happened. Someone shot me."
"Yeah, well, we knew it was inevitable."
"You aren't laughing, though."
"Of course I'm not laughing."
"You said you would. You said you'd stand back and laugh when it finally happened."
"You know I didn't mean that."
Gabriella ran back out of the building, carrying an armful of supplies, and dropped them on the sidewalk beside Dante, shoving Gavin away so she could get to work.
"I love you," Dante said quietly.
Her eyes flickered to him with surprise. "I love you, too."
He smiled slightly, his vision blurry. "Don't let me die alone in the dark, Gabby."
Gabby. He'd never called her that before, even though she'd asked him to.
"You're not dying, Dante," she said, "nor are you alone. Nor is it even dark right now. You're going to be just fine."
"Good," Dante said, closing his eyes and grimacing as she poked and prodded. "Because if I die, I really think Gavin might cry."
"Fuck you," Gavin muttered, standing close enough to hear.
Sirens blared in the distance. EMS, maybe. Police, most likely. A shooting in broad daylight tended to ignite a full response. Medics surrounded Dante within minutes, putting him on a stretcher while officers fired questions his way that he had no desire to answer.
As Dante was loaded into the back of an ambulance, he heard his sister's voice. His eyes drifted to