“Please, Roman,” I beg, tears streaming down my face. “Please.”
Roman drops the gun and I feel the worst scream tear through my chest. Roman is as good as dead. He’s gone. And after that, when Konstantin takes me back to his office to have his “fun,” I’ll wish I was the one that died instead.
“Good,” Konstantin purrs. “Kick it to me.”
“Don’t, Roman. You can still pick it up. Please!” Maybe I can convince him. Maybe there’s still time for him to pick it up and kill Konstantin once and for all. That hope goes out the window the moment he kicks the gun towards us. It slides across the cement and stops right at Konstantin’s feet.
“Don’t cry, Lucy,” Konstantin says softly. “It’ll be okay. You’ll grow to like it.” He drags his fingers over my lips again.
“Fuck you,” I say. “Fuck you!”
Something comes over me. I don’t know what it is, but I lose it, opening my mouth and biting down on Konstantin’s fingers until I taste blood.
“You fucking bitch!” he screams, slamming his gun against my head again. My skull erupts in pain, but I don’t have time to stop and suffer. I’m all instinct, all reaction. He tears his hand back, and I dive to the floor, grabbing the gun. It feels heavy and foreign in my grasp, the same as it did in the diner so many weeks ago.
But I know what to do.
I flick off the safety and turn around just as there’s a sudden loud pop, and I scream. It melts in with the sound of a deeper yell.
I didn’t fire my gun. I know I didn’t. Roman. I turn around, starting for him. I expect to see a red hole in his shirt. To see the life leave his eyes as he collapses on the cold floor. Abram got him. He got us. He killed Roman.
But when I get to him, throw my arms around him, he’s still standing.
“I thought he shot you,” Roman says, crushing me against him, voice hoarse.
“I thought he shot you,” I say. I spin around, and Konstantin is still standing there, unmoved. His arm wavers, and his knee buckles. He starts to open his mouth to speak when a thick line of blood runs from the corner of his lips.
He takes a step, stumbles, and collapses face down on the floor. There’s a bullet hole in his back.
Roman pulls me back into his arms. “I thought I’d lost you,” he says, squeezing me tight. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t. I couldn’t see another person I love go.”
I want to be mad at him. The logical side of me says that he should’ve listened to me. He should’ve given me the freedom I asked for, taken the shot, and killed Konstantin. But I can’t be upset. He lost everything the same way I did. He lost the only people he ever cared about, the same way I did. It wasn’t fair to ask him to do that one more time.
“I love you too,” I say, trying hard not to break down in tears. Konstantin is finally gone. It’s finally over.
I wait for the trumpets to start playing and for the parade to begin. Only, there’s nothing like that. There’s no overwhelming sense of accomplishment. All there is, is the sound of Roman’s heart thudding in his chest. The deafening silence that follows the echo of a gunshot.
“Wait ...” I pull back and look up at him. “If I didn’t shoot him, and you didn’t shoot him ...”
I spin around at the sound of approaching footsteps. From behind the boxes piled high to the roof of the building, I see Nana step out.
“What the fuck?” I forget all manners. I forget that I’m not supposed to curse around my elders. Because seriously, what the fuck.
The gun in her hand is tiny, and for a second, I think it’s a toy. There’s no way my sweet old grandmother has a weapon like that on her. But when she approaches us and I can see it up close. It’s definitely real.
“Nana, what are you doing here? How did you even find us?”
She pauses to look at Konstantin’s body, then back up at me and Roman. “Check your pocket, Roman,” she says.
Confused, he digs into his jacket. What he pulls out is a tiny square. A knowing smile crosses his face, meanwhile I’m left in the dark completely.
“You didn’t,” he says in disbelief.
“I did,” she replies, smiling as well.
“Um,” I interject. “Can somebody please tell me what the hell is going on right now?”
“This is a tracking device,” he says, rolling it over and over in his fingers. “I’ve used something like this before. You can order them online, and as long as you stay close by, you can locate the person through GPS.”
“I bought a few of them online,” she says. “I put one on that man you had watching me. He wasn’t too friendly, but considering who he worked for, I can see why. I put one on you when you came to help me drag the recycling bin out to the curb.”
I make a face. “You don’t need help with the recycling. It’s not that heavy.”
“I know,” Nana smiles. “I needed an excuse to get close to him.”
“Nana, how did you even know who he was?”
“I didn’t. I just had a feeling. You told me you met an old friend, and I saw the way his eyes lit up when I mentioned that my granddaughter helped me with the trash. I knew right then and there that he was someone you knew. Did you really expect me to believe you were working on a writing gig for that long, sweetheart? I know you’re impulsive, but you’re not impulsive enough to quit
