I don’t bother turning to the man who shot me.
Instead, I keep my eyes on Budimir. I have to channel all my remaining strength into staying on my feet. Even then, I barely manage it. I’m swaying back and forth like a drunken sailor.
“I shouldn’t be surprised,” I spit. The pain is clouding all my senses, pressing in around me from all sides. “How could a man like you know anything about an honorable fight?”
“This is exactly why you would never make a good Don, nephew,” Budimir sighs. He wipes the blood off his face. His men move closer, flanking him on either side. “It’s not about honor or loyalty. It’s about power and the men ruthless enough to wield it. I will do what I have to, to get what I want. And those who cross me will die. Just like you are about to do.”
Budimir reaches out his hand. A gun is placed against his palm. His fingers curl around the grip and he raises it to my forehead.
“Say hello to your father for me, will you?” He grins triumphantly.
I close my eyes and picture my wife. My child. My best friend.
I’m leaving them all behind. I wasn’t good enough.
Forgive me.