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“…the next time I see you, I will shoot you.”

Juliana would never forgive me. Nor did I have any right to expect forgiveness. When I shot Espinoza, I severed the bond between us too.

Useless apologies had gathered on my tongue. The fierce wailing of the police sirens blaring down on me silenced me and had me stumbling backwards.

I shot one last look at Mercutio and Julianna, sending silent goodbyes to them both, before I slunk deep into the blackened bitter shadows where I belonged.

I destroyed my phone and tossed the pieces away so I couldn’t be tracked. I drove half out of my mind, somehow finding myself at my mother’s secret apartment.

I ricocheted through the rooms with all the lights still off and stumbled into the shower with all my clothes on. I leaned my forehead against the cold tiles, watching Mercutio’s blood swirling down the drain.

It was only then I realized I’d broken all my father’s rules about leaving a crime scene.

No evidence, no weapon, no witnesses.

He’d be so disappointed in me.

It was on the radio when I stepped out of the shower.

“...a gang-related shootout in Little Italy between officers and what was believed to be members of the alleged Tyrell crime family. Mercutio Brevio, son of the infamous Tyrell accountant, Tito Brevio, was shot and killed. Detective Luiz Espinoza was shot at the scene and is in critical condition. No other perpetrators were apprehended at the scene.

Police are combing through the evidence but have no suspects as of this moment…”

I grabbed the closest thing to me, a vase, and threw it. It smashed across the wall in a shower of cream and red. Mercutio was not part of the Tyrell crime family. He was not a criminal. He was the best man I’d ever known. A good man. A nonviolent man who didn’t deserve Tito Brevio as his father and me, the monstrous Roman Tyrell, as his best friend. How easy it was to assume that he was just like the two of us. He wasn’t.

But he’d go down in the eyes of the public as just another criminal.

Nonna.

The blood drained from my limbs, pain ripping through me. Nonna would know by now. Dear God, I hope they were gentle when they told her. I hope they were kind.

I had to go to her, screw hiding. I had to comfort her, to fall apart alongside her, the only other person in this world who felt like I did right now.

Don’t be stupid, Roman. She wouldn’t want to see you again. She’d curse your name. Hate you. It was your fault he’s dead.

It was my fault.

Mercutio died for me.

I began to pace, pace, pace in this cramped apartment. Replaying every second of those fated moments in my head. Trying to bend the bullet’s trajectory. Each time failing. I watched Mercutio die over and over.

Every time it ripped me apart.