PortiaThe woman drops to the ground and the others behind her are made to step over her body. She's still alive, curled around herself, clutching her stomach. Blood expands in a circle around her, as the man who pulled the trigger, nudges her with his foot and then laughs.She'll bleed to death. And it will be excruciatingly painful.Fear clogs around my throat as every will to fight them slowly does away.Where are you, Callahan?I hear my name my name just then.I turn to find my uncle and Fernando walking toward me. My uncle is talking, still casually smoking. I remember he used to smoke but had told my brothers he'd given it up.Fernando puts his sunglasses on as the sunlight breaks the horizon. He looks so different from last time. Fresher, a bit fatter. I stiffen when they approach, and I'm dragged forward to meet them."She's a little bit of a handful. You may remember," my uncle starts, but I'm too shocked to speak, too terrified to fight. Will I be loaded onto that boat too?
CallahanSix men lie on the ground at the front of the house, all but two shot execution style. The two are riddled with bullets. They were taken by surprise. The others were rounded up.They saw death coming.“The front door was open when we got here,” Dante says.I should have left him with her. Why didn't I leave him? Why?"Any of their soldiers among the dead?" my uncle asks.Dante shakes his head. We were ambushed. Betrayed again. No one knew this house even existed. Even if they did, no on knew she was here. No one but the men who were here with her. Who are all dead.All except for one."Where's Alec?" I ask. He's the lone survivor. He called it in a few hours ago."Kitchen."I look beyond the house to the mountains. Turn around to the ocean. They drove right up. Killed the men at the checkpoints and continued straight to the house.Betrayed.Again.I turn to my uncle who has remarkably not puked at the sight of the bloodbath, both outside and inside the house. Maybe I don't k
Callahan“Are you going home or coming with me?" I ask my uncle.“I'm coming with you.”I nod and the two of us, along with a handful of soldiers, head toward the chopper.My uncle stops me a few feet away. "You should have told me this is where you wanted to spend your wedding night," my uncle says. He has to raise his voice to be heard over the whirring of the blades."You'd try to talk me out of it.""And for good reason. Why didn't you tell me? Even about the church?"I consider my response. How much I want to give away. “You met with him," I say, finished with games. I've been finished with them since I woke up from the coma.Time has become more valuable.And I'm fucking tired.Both eyebrows climb up his forehead. “Met with who?""Fernando.""What?"“Three years ago. On the balcony at the opera. I didn't even know you liked opera, Uncle." I study his face as I say it, laying out my cards, watching for any tells.“What the fuck are you talking about?”"I have a photo. Several. Yo
PortiaMurmurs and quiet whimpers are the, sounds I hear. The smell is dank, like sweat and something else, something rotten. When I'm jostled violently, those whimpers swell to a joint scream followed a few moments later by the sounds of someone retching.I blink. Turn my head. My neck is sore, my shoulders, back and arms aching. I groan, try to bring my hand to my face but my wrists are bound behind my back. As my eyes open and the room comes into focus, I remember why.I remember Fernando. Remember my uncle.And Fernando killing my uncle.I move backward through time and memory, remembering farther back to the room at that house. My bath. Cutting my foot on the shards of glass from the bottle Callahan destroyed.Our wedding night gone up in smoke.Callahan accusing me of being a whore on our wedding night. Something inside me twists but I don't linger because there's another one of those swells and panic grips me. I struggle to sit up just as we crash down and water sprays the wind
CallahanSoldiers have already sealed off the dock. Antonio got here and took care of it before we arrived. He went to Milan on business after the wedding, which is less than a two-hour drive from here.He's on the docks talking to an old man. When he sees me, he gives a nod of greeting."Christ," my uncle mutters.“You don't have to be here," I tell him, surveying the scene.“I'm staying."I walk over the gravel road, to the two bodies lying on the ground. I get to the girl first. Crouching down, I touch two fingers to the pulse at her neck, although I don't need to. She's dead. I can see it in her still open, vacant eyes.Her arms are drenched in dried blood. She was hugging herself. Beneath my shoes, it's seeped into the ground.A single gunshot to the belly. It's a terrible way to die.Straightening, I look out over the boats bobbing in the water. It's a windy day, the water rough.The man talking to Antonio points to a slip where a boat is missing. Antonio nods, takes his wallet
Portia“Who are you?” a creaky voice asks in the darkness.I blink, look around to locate the woman speaking. I find her on the opposite end of the mattress nearest me. There are three others sleeping between us.“Why can't they touch you?" she asks, and I hear resentment in her words."I..." How do I answer? And that too, honestly?"He called you a cartel whore. I heard him. Are you with them? The Cartel?""No. Of course not.""Then why didn't he touch you? You don't have the mark.""What mark?"She lifts the wrist of one of the sleeping girls. A younger one. She shows me the mark made by what looks to be a black sharpie. Just an X.“What does it mean?”She drops the girl's wrist and looks away, her eyes clouded with an emotion I can't place. More like pain, though. "Virgin. They get more for the virgins. Crew can't fuck the virgins but the rest of us are fair game.""They'll sell them?""What did you think they'd do?"That was a stupid question now that I think about it."And they
Callahan"Not who you expected to see?" Fernando Mancini asks but the words don't make sense.The crew found the tracker not fifteen minutes ago. I know because the signal went dead, but we followed the dimly bobbing light in the distance.It's the first time I've seen Fernando Mancini in person since the night he murdered my family.He's older now. A little softer around the middle, a little more worn, but by no means not a threat.Especially not when he has Portia by the arm, the gun in his hand digging into her temple.I can't look at her though. Can't think about how bruised and tattered she looks.How naked and vulnerable.I need to keep my eyes on him."Drop your weapon or I kill her in a heartbeat.”“I have no intention of shooting you. I plan on using my hands,” I say, setting the pistol down."No, not good enough. Into the water."“Take the gun off her.”“I don't think so.” He cocks the gun instead.Antonio comes into view in my periphery. Fernando's eyes shift to him."Both
CallahanI stand with my arms folded watching from across the room as the doctor finishes examining Portia. She's sleeping. Didn't even fight me when I told the doctor to give her something to relax her. Something strong enough to knock her out."What is it about her?" Antonio asks, his eyes, too, on Portia.I turn to him. He shifts his gaze to mine and takes a swallow of whiskey."Why would you give everything up for her?" he continues.I take a deep breath and swallow my own drink. It's not enough. “She's innocent, Antonio. And she can't help her name."He snorts."Why did you go in after her then?" I ask him."I was going after you.""No, you weren't."He turns his attention to pouring himself another glass, taking his time to look at me. I'm glad she wasn't more badly hurt. Glad she didn't die. But we can't lose focus.“That bastard — "" — will be punished. I swear it on my life, dear Brother.”"Don't swear on your life. Don't tempt fate." He drinks."Fate's fucked me over too m