Page 61 of Vendetta

“To see if there are any loose ends,” he answers distractedly, eyes on his phone. “Have to go back to that fucking parking lot, make sure you finished that asshole Andre off.”

“You can’t leave me here with them!” I gape, turning to stare at the door. My wrist pulls against the handcuff, the pain making me wince.

“No one touches her until I get back, do you understand?” Dom says to George, his voice laced with an underlying threat. George nods once.

“Dom!” I yell after him, hating the neediness existent even to my own ears. My cousin ignores me, and storms out of the room, leaving me with George and Danny.

“Fuck,” I curse as the door locks shut. Idid notcome all this way just to get killed by these idiots. Idid notshoot Devon only to die at the hands of my own cousin. I look down at my wrist; the red welts around it are burning in pain. Lifting my head, I slowly raise my eyes to George’s. I don’t know what he sees in them, but he takes a step back, and looks down at the floor. In that moment, I realize something. I need to stick with him. He’s the only one of them I know, and with him, I can at least protect myself somehow.

16

DEVON

“I love you, too.” The beautiful melody surrounds me and grips my chest, until I can't breathe anymore. A gunshot rings through the night and straight through my heart, shattering her words.

My eyes fly open. For the second it takes me to adjust to the darkness in the room, I think I might have dreamed the whole thing. Then pain slices through my shoulder and all the way down to my fingertips. I try to move my arm, clenching my teeth because it hurts like a motherfucker.

“The meds have worn off,” a silhouette says, standing in the corner. He comes closer, turns on the lamp and sits in the chair next to the bed, looking at me as if for the first time. “I'll have them give you more, but we need you conscious right now.”

The bed is not mine. The sheets smell like detergent, artificially fresh. Nothing like her.

My uncle leans his elbows on the bed, making eye contact. I look away, ashamed. By now he must know what I've done, and how I've betrayed us. Our name.

And for what?

Finally I look back at him. He doesn't look good at all. Actually, I think this might be the first time I've seen him look so... distraught. He runs his hands through his hair, pulling on its ends. He looks his age. His features are softer, his eyes younger, but worry wrinkles his forehead. The mask he usually keeps on is nowhere to be seen. It catches me off guard, just how much alike we are. No wonder people think we're brothers.

“What happened out there?” he asks. There's no anger in his voice. It takes me a beat to realize he doesn't sound disappointed, either.

I open my mouth to speak, but my throat is so parched I can't say a word. Frank quickly takes a glass and pours some water from a plastic bottle in it, then brings it to my lips.

“I don't know,” I say after a few more sips. Because I don't know. One minute we were almost free, the next I was at a gunpoint. “I don't know what happened.”

“Think, anything. We need to know whatever you can remember.”

“She just shot me.” It fucking hurts to say it.

Frank nods, then gets up and walks out of the room. I glance around the unfamiliar walls, thinking it looks cold, despite the lamp warm light. I look down my body, and lift the covers to find two layers of blankets and a duvet. Frank comes back in with a woman, and she comes closer, flashing a light into my eyes, blinding me.

“He doesn't seem disoriented.”

The woman nods, opening my eyes wider and flashing the light into them again.

“I'm not disoriented,” I tell them. I don't feel disoriented.

“Can you tell me your name?” the woman asks in a soft, soothing voice. Her red lips bring back a flash of memory, like this is not the first time she's asked me this question.

“It's Devon,” I snap, narrowing my own eyes at her.

“Devon,” my uncle says in warning. He looks at her. “I think he's fine, Aileen. Thank you.”

She nods again, then takes out a pill bottle from her pocket, and puts it on the small table next to the bed. She points at her shoulder and smiles kindly, saying, “For the pain.” Then she turns around and leaves the room.

Frank waits until she's out before speaking. ‘Stupid kids. You could have died out there in the cold, freezing to death. If we didn’t find you in time—” He shakes his head condescendingly as he says it. As far as words of comfort go, it’s not much. “That was an incredibly stupid thing to do, Devon.”

He's telling me.

“She tried to kill me,” I say in disbelief. What surprises me is I'm not angry. Rationally, I shouldn't have expected anything less from her. Her whole family is in danger. If the tables were turned, I'd probably have done the same.

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