Julian lets out an animalistic sound. “I said I don’t like using guns! Why did he make me use one?! He ruined our moment Amelia!” He makes his way back to me and sits me up on the ground. His right hand holding the gun and his left holding the knife.
He stares at me, looking deranged as ever. “Now or never Amelia. I can have a plane ready for us to leave in twenty. We’ll go to a country with no extradition laws. We can finally start living the lives our mothers had hoped for us.” His eyes are frantic. His hand gestures erratic.
My eyes are filled with tears, barely able to focus on Julian’s face when I hear a familiar voice.
“NYPD. DROP YOUR WEAPONS. HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!” Antonio shouts.
I throw myself back on the ground, creating as much space as possible between Julian and me.
It all happens so fast.
I hear more shouting, then gunshots. I immediately feel the weight of Julian collapse on top of me, making it hard to breathe. My hands are still tied behind my back so I can’t move him. The adrenaline running through my body is making it almost impossible to get a full breath in.
And then I see him.
Evan is here.
He rolls Julian off me.
But he doesn’t seem happy to see me. That’s odd.
Then I see Antonio mirror the same expression.
Next, I hear a beep from Antonio’s radio. “I need the EMT’s in here ASAP. We have a thirty-year-old female stabbing victim, knife still lodged in her abdomen. Get them down here NOW.”
And that’s the last thing I hear before it all goes dark.
43
Evan
I’m coveredin Amelia’s blood.
By the time she was put on a gurney, her blood had started to pool around her.
I stayed by her side the entire walk to the ambulance but wasn’t allowed on. Antonio calls me over to ride back to the hospital with him, and that’s when I notice my dad.
“It’s a flesh wound. Bullet went right through. Go to Amelia. Now!” he shouts as he sits at the back of another ambulance, getting gauze placed on his bullet wound.
I nod and jog over to Antonio’s patrol car. The siren is already on by the time I get in, and we take off to the hospital.
Thankfully it’s a short drive, and we’re right behind the ambulance as they arrive.
When they pull Amelia out the ambulance, a small female EMT is riding on the gurney on top of Amelia doing chest compressions on her. “Take us straight into the OR, this is Dr. Nuñez’s kid. Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” The male EMT shouts as he sprints with a team of ER doctors behind double doors.
Please live Amelia. Please live, baby.
* * *
Four hours later, Amelia is still in surgery.
We’re all sitting in a private waiting room. The entire cousin crew, spouses, kids, and the doctor wives.
Julian’s death is all over the news, and so is Amelia’s kidnapping. It doesn’t help that we were on the cover of the New York Times today, therefore creating a media frenzy outside.
Everyone in the room leaves me be. They know now is not the time to ask me about our relationship status. My knees shake uncontrollably and my eyes are bloodshot. I have Amelia’s dried blood all over my hands, but I refuse to wash it off. No matter how many times Antonio has told me to.
Amelia needed multiple blood transfusions. That was the last update we got an hour ago. Dr. Nuñez, along with all his doctor friends, were already working at the hospital when we arrived. Therefore, she’s gotten the best medical care possible. But it still doesn’t seem to be enough, because we haven’t heard any updates.