But what about Sarai?
Even if Armando managed to escape this bloodbath, he’d never be free. There would be more Los Rojos members. More brothers and uncles and sons and daughters. More death and pain. As long as Armando was alive, Sarai would never be safe.
This had to end.
He took a deep breath, letting go of his anger. Letting go of vengeance. Dying here felt right. Sacrificing his life for Sarai felt right. If he could reunite with Alma, he’d welcome his fate with open arms. Unfortunately, that wasn’t in the cards. He didn’t believe in salvation for someone like him. A murderer who’d shot the wrong man couldn’t be redeemed.
“I’m sorry,” he said to Güero, meeting his eyes.
The boy seemed infuriated by his apology. The gun shook in his grip. His breathing was labored, nostrils flared. “You’re sorry? You think that makes any fucking difference to me? You think you can apologize and walk away?”
Armando shook his head. “I’m ready when you are.”
“Fuck you!”
He folded his hands behind his back and stared at the ground. He didn’t think the boy could pull the trigger with him watching. He might not be able to pull the trigger at all. Killing a man at point-blank range was no easy feat. The aftereffects were unpleasant, as well.
Güero edged closer. He took careful aim. Armando held his breath and waited for the blast. Seconds ticked by, but it didn’t come.
“Stop being such a pussy and shoot him in the head,” Benito said.
Güero scowled at him. “I’ll shoot you in the head if you don’t shut the fuck up.”
“In the chest,por favor,” Armando murmured. “For my daughter’s sake.”
Benito strode forward. “Let me do it.”
Tito started arguing with his son, telling him not to interfere. They shuffled around in the dirt, kicking up dust. If Armando wanted to fight, he should do it now, while they were distracted. Even though his wound ached and he was weary of violence, he had a strong survival instinct. His muscles tensed with anticipation, but he held still.
For Sarai.
The chaos sparked Güero into action. He aimed at Armando’s chest and fired twice in rapid succession. Both bullets hit their mark.
Armando fell over in the dirt and stayed there, his heart exploding.
He’d imagined that he wouldn’t feel anything, but he did. He felt an incredible amount of pain. Agony wrenched through his entire torso. His chest locked up and his lungs seized. Dark clouds floated across his vision. He thought about Sarai, and how she’d loved him as a little girl. She used to beg him to pick her up every day when he came home from work. He’d swing her in a circle and lift her up like an airplane, flying her around the house.
He also thought about Alma. The light of his life. His true love. Maybe, by the grace of God, he’d find a way to join her.
