His claim that this is my fault just as much as Roman’s sound in my ears, and I know it’s true. If I had confronted Roman instead of running, he never would’ve attacked the Russian crime family.
I look up when I hear Roman curse only to see blood seeping through his shirt.
Right over his heart.
I cry out, and he turns to me.
“Are you okay?” he shouts frantically.
“You’re hurt!” I cry out.
“I’m fine, sunshine. We need… to get you… to Dad,” he says, slowing throughout the sentence.
I can see he’s fighting to stay conscience, and my stomach plummets.
He’s dying.
But I won’t let that happen.
I’ve seen enough of Gracie’s crime documentaries and Mr. Bank’s action movies to know I need to put pressure on the wound.
I try to pull his jacket off, which he fights until it dawns on him what I’m doing. With it off, I press into his wound.
“Fuck,” he groans in pain.
“Stay with me, Roman!” I demand.
His eyes start to flutter, and I slap him across the face.
He winks at me weakly, then says, “It’s not as fun outside the bedroom.”
Despite the situation we’re in, I still blush and look around, making sure no one heard.
It’s in this moment that I see a soldier’s gaze land on us.
It all happens in slow motion.
He’s approaching us with an evil grin on his face.
Roman’s too unfocused to see what’s happening.
I eye the big gun at Roman’s feet.
And make up my mind.
I lunge on top of Roman and grab the gun. Still acting as a barrier between him and the man, I lift the gun.
My arms shake with the weight, but I hold steady. The man laughs at me, and I can tell he doesn’t think I have it in me.
“Shoot me, little girl. I dare you,” he mocks.
It must wake Roman because he roars and tries to push me off him.
But I hold steady, take a deep breath, and pull the trigger. The first shot misses him, but as his eyes narrow, I fire again. A bullet flies through his shoulder holding his gun, and he drops it. I pull the trigger again and again, until finally he drops too.
All the while, Roman is trying to get out from under me.
Another Russian is drawn in by the commotion and laughs at me holding a gun. But I don’t care. I shoot at him, but not before he fires too.
