Page 106 of Letters From Victor

I leveled the revolver, dragging the barrel up from his chest to his face—slow, surgical.

“Any last words?” I spat, breathing hard.

Kowalski opened his mouth to speak.

“You know what? I don’t care.”

The trigger pull was slick and smooth. The gunshot struck like a gavel.

Kowalski’s head snapped back, and a crimson bloom unfurled between his eyes. He swayed for a few beats. Then he dropped—boneless, gone.

I stood frozen, the revolver still aimed at the empty space where his head had been. The room was eerily silent, as if the very air were holding its breath. Slowly, reality sank in, cold and heavy. It was over.

“Barbara,” I breathed, turning toward her. She still held the pistol in her hand, her eyes fixed on Gino’s struggling form. He was still alive. Pain rolled off him in waves as he labored for breath.

I rushed to her and pulled her into my arms. She was stiff as a board, her body unyielding against mine. Her pistol hit the carpet with a soft thump.

“It’s all right now,” I whispered, running a hand through her silky golden hair. “It’s over. You’re safe.”

She didn’t move. Didn’t speak. The shock coming off her was a cold front that threatened to freeze us both. I held her tighter, trying to will some warmth into her.

“You were so brave,” I murmured, my voice cracking. “I’m sorry, Barbara. For everything. This is all my fault. My stupidity brought this to your door.”

Realization hit me like a sucker-punch.

“Where’s Frankie?” I asked, panic rising in my throat.

“At Edith’s,” she answered mechanically.

“Oh, thank God.” I let out a shaky breath.

A whimper. Gino. I’d almost forgotten he was still in the land of the living.

I pressed Barbara’s head firmly against my chest, shielding her eyes, covering her ears. Like that could keep my world from staining her forever.

Without hesitation, without a word, I raised the revolver and fired.

The bullet struck Gino in the chest with an irrevocable thud. Dead center. His body crumpled like wet paper.

The room deflated, the tension hissing out like a punctured balloon. I holstered my weapon, scooped Barbara to me, and held her tight enough to melt her into me if I could. My knees went weak. My head swam.

“Thank God,” I whispered into her hair, savoring the scent of her. “Thank God you’re all right.”

She was silent, her body still and rigid. Something was off—maybe it was the shock, maybe it was something deeper—but I didn’t care. She was here. She was safe. She was mine.

“Pack a bag,” I said softly into her ear. “Do you want to go downtown or to Malibu for the night?”

She pulled back just enough for our eyes to meet. But she wasn’t seeing me. Just the space behind me, hollow and endless. “Victor, I?—”

“You were amazing,” I cut her off, not wanting to hear whatever doubt she was about to voice. “So strong, so brave.” I stroked her cheek with the back of my hand, then leaned in to kiss her. She didn’t resist, but she didn’t melt into me either.

“Victor,” she started again when I broke the kiss. “We need to?—”

“We need to get out of here,” I said, taking her by the shoulders. “Barbara, listen. You’ve been through hell tonight. You need rest. We’ll figure everything out tomorrow.”

She opened her mouth, but no words came. Whatever she wanted to say was lost, buried somewhere deep. She pressed her lips into a thin line and nodded.

Her eyes were as vacant as a ghost town.

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