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I mean it, I will have no problem ending him. If he touches her, harms her, my life would be over anyway.

“Say goodbye to your little girlfriend,” Matteo sneers.

I look at Gabriella, her eyes squeezed tightly shut as she mouths “I love you,” and it’s as if everything happens in slow motion and the only thought is to save her.

Matteo’s shocked face looks at me and then the gun as I lunge at him.

“Matteo, no,” I yell, my voice no longer sounding like my own. I reach for Gabriella and shove her sideways. She slumps to the ground with a thud as I reach for Matteo’s hand that wields the gun. A shot fires and the sound of glass shattering rings out behind me. I tackle Matteo to the ground, taking his hand and smashing it repeatedly against the floor until he releases the weapon and I swipe the out of his reach.

We both fight for control, years of pent-up anger, hatred, and frustration released with our fists. Blow after blow, I never relent and he does the same. There’s pain coming from all angles as he pummels my face and body. I have no idea how long we go at it, but eventually his body sags and he holds his hands up in surrender.

“You-You win little brother,” he says between gasping breaths.

“You, are, dead to me,” I hiss. I glance over at Gabriella who’s awake, dragging her body across the room to where I see a phone. I pray she’s calling the police, anyone for help.

Not wanting Matteo to see I keep his focus on me.

“You, are going right back to prison where you belong, you hear me?” He laughs. “You belong there with me, brother. You just got lucky.”

“I wasn’t there. I didn’t kill a man, or try and cover it up.”

“No, but you should have been.” He chokes. “You should have been there. If you had maybe Dad wouldn’t have killed that officer. Maybe I wouldn’t have ended up in prison right alongside him. You should have been there.” For a split second, an overwhelming feeling of guilt sucker punches me in the gut,the blow more painful than any of the ones Matteo has just given me.

I should have been there.

“I’m-I’m sorry,” I stutter.

“Sorry doesn’t erase the last eighteen years, Marco. Do you know what they do to people in prison? Do you?” The pain is clear in his voice.

I dread to think what my brother has been through, but I haven’t had it easy either.

“I don’t claim to, Matteo, but it’s been no picnic for me either.”

He rolls onto his side, spitting blood onto the floor as he brings himself to a sitting position. “Yeah, it looks like you’ve had a really hard life with your hot girlfriend and your clubs and all your money. My heart fucking bleeds for you, Marco.”

Anger vibrates through my body. “You have no fucking idea what I’ve been through. The pieces I had to pick up and put back together when you and Dad went down. What I went through in Afghanistan. Don’t play the victim with me. You made a choice, and you paid the consequences.”

I bend over, clutching my chest, the pain of my memories almost too much to bear.

“Brad,” Gabriella cries out. “The police are on their way.”

Matteo tries to stand and head for the door and anger lights up my body, no, he’s not walking away from this.

“No, you, you are going back to prison you piece of shit.” I stand up, the heaviness still in my chest but I need to keep him here.

I muster all the strength I have and charge towards him, knocking him back down to the ground. We roll and tumble once again. His arm reaches out and Gabriella lets out a scream. “Brad, the gun.” It takes me a few seconds to register her words and focus.

Matteo points the gun at me and my reflexes kick in. I move my head to the side, covering the gun with my hand. He fights back as we wrestle for control. A shot fires and a burning pain lands in the center of my stomach.

The gun clatters to the ground and Gabriella wails, but she sounds so far away. I press to my shirt, wondering why I feel so strange and I’m met with a thick, warm liquid. My wide eyes look into Matteo’s. The color drains from his face.

“You,” is all I manage before my vision darkens around the edges and I slump forward, my head hitting the hardwood floor.

Gabriella’s face comes into view and she repeats the same words over and over. “Help is coming. You’re going to be okay. Stay with me.”

I fight to stay awake, to focus on the woman hovering above me. The only woman I have ever and will ever love. I lift my arm, using the last of my strength to stroke her cheek. My blooded hand leaves a smear.

“I love you.”