Maybe Franklin was right, maybe it’s stupid to care for people the way I do, but I refuse to think the life he chooses is the one more worth living. I will not allow anyone else to die at his hands, not if I can help it.
He has to be stopped.
Another violent explosion ripples through the building, dropping me to the floor. Bits of concrete rain down all around, and I do what I can to use my body as armor to protect Claire from the wreckage.
“Are you okay?” I scream at her over top of the ringing in my ears.
She nods, her eyes squinted to block out the dust floating through the hazy air.
I allow my gaze to float through the crowd, ignoring the blood all around. I grip my gun, firing a bullet and somehow landing it in the chest of one of Franklin’s men. Another unfortunate sacrifice in the grand scheme of things. These types of guys will not be reasoned with, not with Franklin still alive. There’s too much loyalty, too much hatred in their eyes. And for what? A pretty penny?
I was like them once, blindly following that same sick and twisted excuse of a human. But the difference between me and them is that I never would have gone along with this. Not the kidnapping and torture of innocent people. The slaughter of many with no disregard because of some personal vendetta. Because Ioutsmartedhim. How do they not realize the error of their ways? Of his ways? How is any of this justified?
One by one, Claire and I bolt across the dimly lit battlefield of a building to catch up to Luciano and Miller and the only other guy left on their side. The five of us run to duck behind a shipping container and catch our breaths.
Panting, Luciano grabs my shoulder. “You’re alive.”
“No shit. So are you.” I flip my head toward where we came from. “What the fuck are we going to do? We’re outnumbered.”
Luciano runs his hand through his hair, sweeping it out of his sweat-soaked face. He drops the empty magazine from his gun and pulls another from his pocket. “I’m out after this.” He dips his head toward a few bodies nearby, to their weapons at their sides.
Claire stares eagerly ahead, waiting for us to come to some kind of decision. Whatever it is, she’ll be on board. She wipes her head on her shoulder, and her tongue traces the cut on her bottom lip.
Luciano sighs, glancing at the few faces left. He lowers his voice. “We’ll have to charge them. I don’t think he’ll expect it.”
Franklin calls out. “Brother, are you hiding from me?” He laughs, a sick and twisted sort of cackle. “Just like when we were children. Strange company you keep, though.”
Luciano and I exchange glances.
Franklin is still unaware of our connection, the reason for our alliance. He has no idea the line he’s crossed numerous times in Luciano’s eyes.
“Luce, let’s call a truce.” Franklin giggles to himself. “That rhymed.”
“He’s getting closer,” Miller whispers to us.
“Brother, I have a bit of unfinished business with your friend there,” Franklin continues. “I’m all for answering to breaking the treaty and coming onto your territory, but can we do it another time? This doesn’t have to be answered in bloodshed, not between us.”
“He’s not my friend,” Luciano grits through his teeth, standing up and stepping out into the open.
The three of us dart after him, our weapons drawn with our fingers resting against the triggers.
The smell of burning flesh and the taste of metal reminds me of what’s on the line. My head throbs and a lingering odor stings my eyes.
Franklin raises his gun, pointing it at the man standing between me and him. “Then, you wouldn’t mind me…”
“He’s my…”
Franklin doesn’t wait for Luciano’s response; he simply shoots. He doesn’t care about anything, or anyone, other than the stupid fucking vendetta he has against me.
“Son.” Luciano’s word hangs in the balance as the bullet pierces his chest.
My mouth drops open, my heart clenching. I extend my arms, catching my father before he tumbles onto the disgusting floor. We collapse together—red instantly seeping through his shirt.
Another shot rings out, then another.
I glance up, complete shock rattling Franklin’s features, his men dropping like flies beside him. Claire and Miller take them out one by one with Franklin’s momentary distraction.
Claire glides around like she’s floating, maneuvering herself strategically as if she was an elegant ice skater, but instead she’s a ruthless assassin. Really, she’s just an angry soul, hell-bent on getting the revenge she’s been hungry for.