Page 75 of Jagger's Remorse
They retreat, dragging bodies.
Leaving their dead.
My brothers start to run after them, but I call them off.
"Let them go. We've got what we came for," I order.
The silence that follows is deafening.
Bodies everywhere.
Blood painting abstract art on concrete.
And in the center, Scarlett standing over Diego's corpse.
"Is he—?" I ask.
"Very," she confirms.
"You okay?" I check.
"No." She looks at me then. "But I'm alive."
I cross to her, checking her wounds.
Her shoulder's bad but not fatal.
She has various cuts and bruises, but she’s breathing.
"You came back," she says quietly.
"You knew I would," I tell her.
"I hoped," she admits.
"That's new," I observe.
"Yeah, well. You're a bad influence," she says.
Mel whimpers from where she's huddled.
Scarlett kneels beside her, gentle now. "Hey. It's over. You're safe," Scarlett soothes.
"I'm sorry," Mel sobs. "He made me tell him things. About you. About the club."
"Shh. It's okay. Diego's good at making people talk," Scarlett comforts her.
"Is he really dead?" Mel asks.
"Very," Scarlett confirms again.
"Good," Mel says with venom.
Even sweet Mel has limits, apparently.
Sirens are heard in the distance.
"Time to go," Poncho calls.
