Page 92 of Empire of Carnage

Santos cut my restraints before lifting her head up under his lap.

“I told you, that I’d do anything for these fuckers.” She choked on her own blood with a smile, her eyes fluttering closed.

“Taylor, keep your eyes open,” I commanded her.

We’d lost too many innocent people already.

They’d lost too many of their friends.

I was not worth these deaths.

Santa Muerte please.

Why them and not me?

“You can’t shroud me from pain if you keep taking everyone from me!” I screamed, my tears falling over her face and my yells not registering any reaction from her.

As if La Madrina heard my plea, the sounds of the ambulance drew closer and closer to our home.

“We have to get her into the main area,” Ronan instructed, reminding us of the dead putos in the room that were going to be drawing more attention to the situation than we needed.

“Call Dominico, have him reach out to Ramírez to clear this mess.” My voice sounded hoarse though I couldn’t remember screaming. Santos nodded as Mateo and Ronan lifted Taylor off the ground and carried her out of the piano room.

The paramedics rushed in, loading her into the gurney while trying to explain to Mateo in a language he didn’t speak that he’d have to meet them at the hospital separately. He didn’t take their no for an answer, climbing in anyway and disappearing with the sounds of the sirens.

I stayed sitting there on the floor, paralyzed and numb as I thought about the last half of the year. Was this who I had been meant to become all along? Had there been another path set out for me that kept begging me to stay the course, but I just refused to follow it? Or was my destiny always meant to be one filled with carnage and death?

I was built for it.

I knew I was.

I shook off the imposter syndrome crawling up my spine once again and reminded myself that I’d made every promise against my enemies come true.

“Raa Cocksucker!” Pluto’s voice jarred me out of my thoughts, making me involuntarily laugh as I looked up to find Ronan holding his cage.

“Hola Amigo.” The tears rolled down my face and he turned his little head to the side as if he was trying to recognize my pain as something he understood.

“Hola Puto!” he cawed, forcing my tears to stream down faster with my laughs.

“I didn’t know you spoke spanish.”

Ronan sat, placing the cage on the ground and bringing me into his lap. The bird alluded to conversation every now and then, mostly letting us down each time it turned into repetitive insults. He plucked the sharp bones sticking out of my hands one by one, the burning sting a welcome pain. We sat there together for an hour before his phone rang. He lifted me up to reach for his cell in his pocket.

“Where are you?” he asked as soon as he answered.

“Okay, go without us. We’ll meet there soon, ask Kane if he needs any clothes.”

I waited anxiously for him to disconnect the call and give me all the information.

“Santos made contact with Ramírez, he’ll make sure there are no questions from the paramedics. Dominico is sending a crew to clean the bodies up while we're gone.” He lifted me up to my feet, my legs barely able to hold me. Instead of letting me get my bearings he lifted me up into his arms, carrying me out of the room and taking me up the stairs.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Taylor’s in surgery,” He told me, some of the weight of the universe lifting off my shoulders.

“She’s not dead?” The tears began again, I no longer fought to wipe them or prevent them from falling.

I think I had finally learned that crying didn’t make me weak.