Page 67 of Death's Favor

I can’t look. I don’t want to see it. I’ll never be able to forget the lifeless eyes.

So much blood.

My eyes are squeezed so tightly shut that it takes a second for me to realize Tommy has left me. He’s surged forward toward the men, which means he must not be hurt, but I can hardly make myself look to check. Instead, I scurry to the front pew, where Mom, Gran, and Amelie huddle on the floor. We cling to one another and peek over at the guys standing in the aisle, looking down at what I assume are the two Russians.

“One of you carrying a gun?” Sante calls over to us with a hint of confusion.

Gran lifts a small black handgun in the air. “I am, thank the Lord.” She pulls herself to her feet and slips the gun back in her purse.

“Where the fuck did you get a gun?” Sante demands.

“From me,” Mom answers as she helps me to my feet.

I hear everyone around me, but I feel removed like a hazy filter has formed between me and the rest of the world.

“Jesus. And where the fuck didyouget a gun?”

“We got it from a cousin when Dani first told us about Biba coming after her. I brought it with me when I went to the safe house. Ma asked me last night if I still had it, so I gave it to her.”

Gran nods sagely. “It’s a good thing I did.” She leans toward the dead men and makes a spitting gesture.

I keep myself staunchly faced forward toward the altar. I can’t look.

I don’t want to see.

Amelie wraps an arm around me. “You okay?” she whispers.

I nod, but I’m not okay. So many images that I never wanted to see again are resurfacing.

Sante chuckles. “She damn near shattered this guy’s shin.”

“Not bad, considering I had to shoot from around the bench. Besides, I wasn’t trying to kill him. I just needed a distraction so you two could do the rest.”

Three shots. Or was it two?

And so much laughter. Horrible, heartless laughter.

Gran finally looks back at me and stills. “Oh, sweet Dani. I’m so sorry you had to see that. Come here, sweet girl.” She wraps her arms around me, and I finally feel a semblance of stability. I anchor myself in her touch and force out the horrible memories. “They were bad men, Dani. They would have killed all of us.”

“I know. Let’s just get this over with and get out of here.” My voice is almost unrecognizable. So fragile. So empty.

She pulls back and looks searchingly at me, then nods with solemn acceptance.

“Danika?” Tommy’s voice calls from behind me, but I can’t look. I don’t want to see.

I move mechanically to my place at the altar and wait. Footsteps and shuffling noises echo behind me as everyone resituates themselves.

I don’t look.

Then Tommy is there beside me. We are two islands with an ocean of unspoken words between us.

“You can come out now,” he barks at the altar, prompting the minister to peek around the side of the wooden structure. “We aren’t leaving here until we’re married, so I suggest you start talking.”

The man nods his sweat-covered head and drags himself to his feet.

Tommy and I are married in what has to be the fastest wedding ceremony in history. The sanctuary is silent, the atmosphere is suffocating, and I am a prisoner to my memories, unable to shake free of the horrific devastation.

Tommy can sense the change in me. I know it. I hate to upset him. He doesn’t understand, but I can’t force out the words. Not now. Not ever.