The Mafia's Mercy
I hardly notice when he reaches in and unlocked the door, the click of the mechanism like a gunshot in the stillness.
He waves off the police, and through tears, I see them back away, turning off their flashing lights and retreating to their vehicles. It’s a small mercy, but one I’m not sure I deserve.
“Let me drive you home, Mercy,” Santiago says, his voice soft but insistent. “Just you and me, in your car. You can lay down in the back seat, try to rest.”
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