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There are no complaints from me. The further away from Savannah Rossi is, the less chaotic my life will be.
If I make it out of here in one piece.
The walls rattle as an explosion sounds nearby. It’s getting closer.
Emily paces in the same spot Giuseppe was pacing in earlier. “We’re sitting ducks here, but we can’t leave. It’s not safe.”
I don’t know why I feel propelled to help her, but I say, “You can leave. You can sneak out the back. I’ll stay here.”
“I can’t leave you. If Mr. Rossi sees me fleeing, he will put a bullet between my eyes. I just need to wait it out.” She walks over to the chair and sits down. Her leg bounces as she glances all around the room.
I lean my head against the wall and close my eyes. It’s quiet. The yelling and the explosions have stopped.
“I think it’s over.” I whisper to Emily.
“Let’s give it a few minutes just to be sure, and then I’ll go check on everyone.”
“Yeah, that might be wise in case the house is unstable.”
Emily and I sit in silence as we listen for any noise to clue us in on the damage. To pass the time, I count my breaths.
In.
Out.
One breath.
In.
Out.
Two breaths.
Over and over I breathe in and out and add another number until my eyes grow heavy and my stomach growls. I haven’t had any food today. I know it’s not healthy for me or the baby, but I can’t exactly demand food when I’m being held hostage.
Please let Joseph come and get me. Please let me make it home safe. Please let my baby be safe.
I close my eyes and continue to pray to get out of here.
All of a sudden, the lock on the door explodes a second before the door swings open.
I’m going to die. I’ll never get to see my child grow up. I’ll never get to tell Joseph that I’m sorry and I love him.
I stare at Emily, waiting for something, anything, to happen.
She shrugs as she gets up and peeks into the hallway. Two gunshots ricochet off the metal door a second before Emily groans and falls to the floor.
Blood drips down her face, coating her hair before pooling on the floor.
If the shooter is anyone other than a Marino or a friend of a Marino, then I might as well prepare to meet God.
Footsteps get louder, mimicking my racing heart until they stop right outside the door.
“Alexandra? It’s me, Gage. I’m coming in.” Gage yells from the hallway a second before he steps into the doorway.
He barely fits through the door. How have I never noticed how buff he is?
He scans the room, keeping his gun pointed in front of him, and when he sees I’m alone, he makes his way over to me. “Are you hurt? Can you walk?”