parries it with his gun. A shock moves up my forearm, and my fingers loosen.
The knife clatters to the floor.
There’s a pause where we just sort of stare at the knife. Then I scream, launching myself at him, bringing both hands to his gun-holding hand to try and wrench the weapon free. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Angelo taking a knife from a boot of one of the Albanians. With a brutal, violent motion, he stabs the man through the foot, pinning it to the floor.
It is chaos in here, filled with the scent of blood and men who are dying or already dead. All I can think of, over and over again, is: I have to survive. For me. For Angelo. For our baby.
29
Angelo
All I can think about is Dani on the other side of the bar with Dujar. I know they’re fighting from the way she’s screaming, and the glasses flying everywhere, but my body and reflexes have been honed through years of fighting, so I go into autopilot.
The Albanian near me made a fatal mistake, keeping that knife in a boot-holster. After stabbing him through the foot so hard I pin him to the floor, I dislodge the blade and drag it up his leg, then slice it across his throat as I spring to my feet.
Somebody fires another gunshot, but it goes wide. Too careful, too scared of friendly fire. More bullets tear at the air around me, until one finds its mark. I roar as I feel a burning sensation in my back, but I ignore it. I cannot stop now. Not with so much hanging in the balance.
I grab the Albanian’s gun and spin, using his body as a human shield as I fire wildly. Two of my shots strike an Albanian through the neck and chest. Another clips the TV, knocking it from the wall mount. I wheel the gun around to the Albanian sneaking up on my right.
“Enough!” I roar, prodding him with the weapon. “Drop it, motherfucker.”
He does as I say. I inch toward the bar, keeping the Albanian between me and the remaining men at all times. Dujar and Dani are still wrestling over the gun. That fucking egghead Dujar isn’t strong enough to wrench it away from her.
Dani looks like a wild animal as she brings her mouth to his hand, biting down. He roars, loosening his grip, and Dani grabs the gun. She drives her knee into his balls and knocks him across the jaw with the pistol’s grip.
My queen.
Looking up, she assesses the situation with a speed that fills me with pride. Even limping, even after almost being assaulted by these disgusting fucks, she’s got the same fire in her. She walks around the bar and stands behind me, gun pointed at the Albanians.
“Now what?” she whispers in my ear.
“Stay close.”
Dujar climbs to his feet, wiping blood from his face, as I walk around the edge of the room, keeping the Albanians in the pistol’s sights at all time. They follow like a pack of hyenas just waiting for their chance to break into a sprint.
“Fucking bitch!” Dujar hisses, spitting blood. “Execute him! Don’t let them get away!”
The Albanians exchange glances at the order. Execute one of their own just so I don’t have a human shield anymore? It’s the sort of cold, callous instruction people only blindly follow in movies. In real life, this human shield motherfucker has brothers, uncles, cousins who’d be angry if he was killed so casually.
They begin jabbering in Albanian as Dujar makes his way around the bar. I don’t understand the words, but it’s clear that the basic thrust of the conversation is them disagreeing about whether or not to kill the human shield. Behind me, I feel Dani stumble, cursing as her leg almost collapses beneath her. She grabs my torso, then curses again.
“You’re bleeding, Angelo,” she whispers. “Oh shit, it’s bad.”
“I can’t feel a thing,” I reply, which is half true. I don’t feel anything. But once her fingers gingerly explore the edges of the gunshot wound, a searing pain moves through my torso. That’s when I feel the blood spreading across my shirt, too, soaking it. “Oh—fuck.”
I stumble, almost letting the Albanian go. We’re nearly at the elevator now, but Dujar and his men follow doggedly, with only the hallway between us. It feels shorter than it ever has before, especially as my vision wavers with blood loss. They must’ve hit something vital. I’m