Portia
Callahan stands and helps me up.
“Don’t look at him. He doesn’t deserve your gaze.”
Antonio reads something on his phone, and I see the Glock he’s holding at his side.
“Our men are on the grounds, not in the house yet though.”
I hear gunfire outside the house then, and a moment later, a small explosion.
Callahan goes to the window, one arm wrapped around me, as he looks out over the front yard. I see the men out there, the gunfight. I notice the fire at the far end of the house.
“We need to move,” he tells Antonio, then turns his attention to me. “Is Felix on site?”
“I don’t know,” I say.
He nods. “If he is, I’ll find him. But I need to get you out first.” He holds my hand, and we walk around the bed to where the dead man is lying face down in his own blood. He bends to tug his knife out of the man’s side.
I notice the new injury on his side then. The bandage over the new set of stitches long gone. I touch it tentatively.
“You’re hurt.”
He takes my wrist, shifting his grip to my hand. “It’s nothing, Let’s go. Once I get you out, I’ll come back for Felix.”
“Wait, Callahan.” I grab his arm when Antonio opens the door.
Another explosion rocks the house and I let out a little scream.
“We have to go, Portia,” Callahan says with some urgency.
“Mara,” I say.
Antonio whirls to face me. A crease forms between Callahan’s eyebrows.
I look at them both. “She’s alive. She’s here. Or she was here.”
“Alive?” Antonio asks, taking a step toward me.
I nod. “A man called Petrov has her. He… bought her.”
“Petrov?” Antonio looks sick suddenly.
I nod.
“If Petrov has her, she’s gone,” Callahan says. He turns to say something to Antonio, but gunfire breaks out in the corridor and we duck to take cover.
Everything happens so fast then. So many men. So many shots fired. Heavy boots beat down the lush carpet as they rush through the halls. Callahan drags me with him, refusing to let go of my hand as war breaks out inside the house.
I don’t know who’s who. I can’t tell who’s on our side, who’s on theirs. And I feel like dead weight as Callahan covers me again, shielding me from harm, putting his body in the way of any bullet that might come for me.
There’s another explosion, this one closer, knocking out a door at the far end of the hall.
“Stairs,” Callahan calls out over the noise, pointing.
I recognize them. They’re the stairs I climbed when we first got here.
“They’ll take us to the kitchen!” I scream to Callahan and Antonio as soldiers bear down on us.
We get to an open door and Callahan shoves me into the room, freeing himself to reload his weapon before stepping out into the hallway again.
“No!” I call out when I hear the bullets.
But a moment later, I see Antonio.
He’s caught up to us. I hadn’t realized we’d lost him. He switches out the Glock’s magazine, turns and takes another shot. More boots charge up the stairs at the opposite end of the hall, running over the fallen bodies of soldiers.
We get to the stairs that lead to the kitchen and sprint down, Callahan catching me when I fall.
“Get her out!” Callahan yells to Antonio, releasing me as soon as we’re in the kitchen. From here I see the fire in one of the outbuildings.
Antonio turns, sees something, and immediately throws himself in front of Callahan. His body jerks violently and he stumbles back to the wall, stunned momentarily.
“No!” I cry out because a circle of blood is already seeping into his shirt at the center of his chest. “No.”
Callahan goes white when he sees his brother stumble, slide down a little. When he sees the smear of blood on the wall, that shock morphs into something else. Something powerful and violent and vengeful.
He is Fury now.
He turns to face the oncoming soldiers and I scream. I cover my ears and scream and scream. He kills every one of those men before one final, massive explosion rocks the house. The floor beneath us seems to sway, men falling, the click of an empty pistol loud in the moment before this tsunami touches down.
Callahan turns to me, then to his brother.
Antonio stumbles. Callahan wraps one arm around him, the other around me, and we almost make it to the door before the house explodes around us.
–
Callahan
Dying is a strange thing. To be half a part of this world, half a part of another.
There’s pain first. A burning, searing pain.
I look at my brother. He’s still here. Feeling it. I see it in his eyes.
Then comes the buzz of noise as sound fades in and out. As you fight to understand. Fight to stay alive. To stay here.
Some people say they saw a light at the end of the tunnel. I didn’t. I only remember the dark. If I believed in a god, I’d say it was his way of letting me know he doesn’t want to have anything to do with me.
I touch my brother’s face.
He turns his head a little to look at me.
I hope he sees the light. I hope… fuck… I hope there’s light for him.
“Get them out!” Someone yells.
I look up, see Dante. See soldiers. Ours. See the piles of dead bodies beyond. Beside me I see Portia. She’s sitting up, hand to her head. Dazed, bruised and bloodied but alive and alert.
When she looks at me, her mouth opens, and I know she’s screaming my name but it’s all just white noise now.
When I look at Antonio again his eyes have closed.
He’s dying. Maybe I’m dying too.
Portia’s hands turn my face, making me look up at her. I reach up to touch her cheek. Smear away blood. So much blood.
She’s the last thing I see before I close my eyes. And I try to tell her I’m sorry.
Because I told her I’m not so easy to kill. But maybe I’ve used up my lives.