can’t be happening. I’m a monster, but even I have limits. Killing kids is a sin even I won’t lay at the devil’s feet. And Joey, fuck, it’s like he’s taken a line up the nose. He’s high off the slaughter of the innocent, and seems to be getting off on it.
Luciano is a criminal. He’s a cold-blooded killer, but I refuse to believe he’d sanction this. I don’t care who ordered it.
“Stop it!” I yell. “Don’t fucking shoot another kid, or I swear to God, I’ll—”
“You’ll what, bitch boy? You gonna shoot me? Go ahead. Go back and tell Marco Vitoli you put a bullet in one of his own men over some worthless targets, and see how long you last.”
A guttural howl echoes at the bottom of the stairs. “Nyet!” No!
Joey gets off another shot, but misses his mark, hitting Nicholas in the shoulder. The miss knocks him off his game for a split second, but that split second is all the Romanov patriarch needs to fire back. Staggering off the railing, he shoots, landing a lucky shot into Joey’s upper thigh.
“Russian cocksucker!” Growling in pain, he doubles over while hissing my name. “Go! Find the mother and the other three brats.”
So, I go. But not for the reason he thinks. I can’t do anything for those two little girls, but maybe I can save the other three.
Nicholas raises his gun again when multiple footsteps race down the staircase behind him.
“Papa!”
Shit!
Nicholas’s head swivels around. “Mariana! Take Artem, go! Go find your mother! Go now!” It’s a mistake. He should’ve pulled the trigger first. Instead, he takes his eyes off Joey long enough to allow him to stand back up and survey the scene.
When he hears the panic in Nicholas’s voice, two more shots clip the air, ending the lives of two more Romanov children.
“No!” Nicholas and I shout at the same time.
A father’s grief is palpable. I’m not one and I’ve never had one, but I can feel it. It’s dense and dark, like a heavy wool blanket wrapped tightly around you until there’s no air. No light. Nothing.
And that’s what I see on that man’s face.
Nothing.
So much nothing he doesn’t lift his gun again. Even as Joey aims his at his temple, he doesn’t flinch. He just keeps his eyes on his slain children, waiting to join them.
But he won’t go alone.
So, as Joey pulls his trigger, so do I.
And as Nicholas takes his last breath, so does Joey.
This Irish boy is one hell of a distance shot. Something Joey neglected to remember.
I stand there, my lungs trying to remember how to breathe, when Joey’s last words to me flash through my head. “Go find the mother and the other three brats.”
Shit! There’s another kid. I take the stairs two at a time, weaving from hallway to hallway and room to room. This house is the size of my whole neighborhood. I could search the rest of the night and come up empty.
Jesus, why didn’t they just stay in their rooms?
Frustrated, I’m about to give up when I hear it.
“One. Two. Three. Four. Five.”
It’s faint, but there. Soft. Whispered. Shadows fall around me as I spin toward the door where the voice is coming from. I turn the doorknob, expecting to find it locked, but it welcomes me without any resistance. Unlike downstairs, it’s dark in here. Only the full moon and the flicker from the candle on the window light my way.
But it’s enough to see her. And once I do, I can’t move. All I can do is watch her count to five over and over as she cries. This small girl with the long dark hair.
“Why do you count the same numbers over and over, little girl?”
“Because I’m scared of six,” she whispers, closing her eyes. Somehow, I know it’s because she thinks I’m going to laugh at her. But I don’t. I listen.
“One. Two. Three. Four. Five.”
I close the door, each whispered number matching my steps as I make my way across the room and kneel before her. Something in me needs to touch her. To comfort her and let her know she’s not alone. I cover her shaking hands with mine. “Look at me.”
When she looks up, I know I’ll never forget the pain in those earthy green eyes. It’s deep, and if I wasn’t such a selfish man, I’d spend my life making sure she never hurt again. But all I can do is end this pain.
These children weren’t supposed to