It all feels too easy.
We look up and around, back and forth. No one is here as we crouch and run through the space. We’re almost at one of the black trucks when a voice comes out on a loudspeaker.
“Not so fast!” Carlo’s voice shouts.
Two thugs appear from the other side of the SUV, forcing Jesse and me to back away. He protectively puts his arm around me, and I flinch at the pain in my shoulder.
If Jesse was right, now that I’m shot, Carlo will never turn me into the police. Being convicted as a criminal is better than death, and I can’t even be afforded that luxury anymore.
“Drop your weapon,” Carlo commands.
Jesse does what he said. “I’m sorry, baby. I tried,” he says, but I won’t hear it.
“Never apologize. We had a short time together, and in those moments, I learned more about myself, about life, and most importantly, about love. I’d never trade that for the world.”
The pain in my shoulder be damned, I hug him, pulling myself into Jesse’s chest and melting into his embrace one last time.
“What the hell is this shit? Boys, take them into the mountains. You know what to do.”
They pull Jesse from me, and I cry out loud as we are dragged toward opposite trucks.
I’m being tugged by the waist. My first instinct is to panic. Then, I get a sense of déjà vu, and the lessons Jesse taught me in his living room come to mind. With my foot stepped forward, I muster my energy, twist at the waist, and elbow the thug as hard as I can in the nose. I’m not surprised to see Jesse has done the same thing.
We run toward the garage doors, but like a bad mirage, I am met with ten more men, all with a weapon of some sort in their hands.
Carlo descends from the office he was in and walks across the warehouse floor, clapping.
“I have to give it to you,” he says, entertained. A callous laugh rumbles from his chest. “You two put on quite a show. But seriously, it’s time for you to go.”
I look at the wall of criminals and once again feel defeated.
I turn to Jesse, wondering what in the world he could possibly have up his sleeve. The downhearted look in his eyes says he’s out of options.
“I’m sorry,” he breathes, and my body feels like it’s falling.
To think, this is how it ends. After the gunfire and kidnapping. After weeks of attempting and ultimately failing at keeping everyone safe … it ends here.
I can’t say I’m scared. I’m not anxious or sad.
I’m numb. My entire body feels like it’s frozen in time as I look around the room. The large-scale warehouse with its gray walls and metal piping. The men in green that line the walls like a militia with their guns drawn. A smell of motor oil radiates through the air, and a slight breeze comes from the rafters above.
I look to the man to my right. The one with golden skin and blue-green eyes. A soldier in honor and a gentleman to the core.
This is the moment I am going to die.
In this room.
Beside this man.
And I can’t help but feel a nothingness come over.
I look up at Carlo. He’s talking, spewing words from his mouth. Jesse’s hand takes mine, and the sensation radiates warmth through me. I love him so much. We only had a moment together, but it was worth every second.
My eyes meet Jesse’s, and I hold on to his stare, hoping that if I look at him and only him while feeling his pulse race against my own, palm to palm, then everything around us will fade.
I try, but it’s hard.
The loud roaring of an engine sounds outside the garage door and blares through my thoughts. It grumbles loudly, as if it’s coming up quickly. In fact, it reverberates like a herd of vehicles. Louder and louder, the sound of engines intensifies. The ground seems to be rumbling along with the machines. The thugs look to each other and then to Carlo and back.
“What the fuck is that?” Carlo yells just as a Hummer comes bursting through one of the garage doors.
I run and duck behind a piece of equipment in the corner.
Another door is broken through as a second Hummer comes crashing in and then another. Men in black squad suits hop out of the trucks and descend on the warehouse with guns drawn and blazing.
Jesse is at my side, and I cling to him.
“Is this the FBI?” I ask him, completely bewildered.
“No. It’s the mob.”
“Amelia!” I hear my name called from someone outside the garage walls.
I look out the window to see Uncle Enzo standing near a black SUV. I turn to Jesse in confusion.
“Ask later. First, we need to get you out of here. Now!” He stands and calls over to a man with a gun, “I need cover!”
He takes a look at me and doesn’t hesitate. Guns are drawn, and the man gives us cover as we run through the crescendo of bullets. Enzo is waving us over, as if it could make us move faster. When we get to the back of a truck, Jesse opens the door for me and ushers me quickly inside.
Enzo starts driving before Jesse closes the door.
“Someone needs to explain what happened in there!” I yell, so bizarrely confused by the men in Hummers who just barged through commercial-sized garage doors and rained bullets all over the Lugazzi warehouse. “How did you know we were there?”
I grimace in pain, making me grab my shoulder.
“Is she shot?” Enzo glances in the rearview mirror more than on the road.
“She took a bullet for me,” Jesse explains with a glimmer of a smile on his face.
“You think that’s funny?” Enzo points at Jesse through the rearview. “I swear to Christ—”
“Uncle Enzo, it’s
