Page 58 of Long Live the King
I collapse onto the floor, screaming at the top of my lungs as the blood quickly makes its presence known and soaks my pants. I’m hit.
The shooting stops, Giovanni apparently out of bullets for the moment, as Alannah turns around.
“Dominic!” she screams, reaching for the wound in my left hamstring. “No! No, no, no! Oh my god!”
“We gotta go,” is all I say in response, sucking down the pain and forcing myself to stand. Blood oozes out of the wound, and although the pain is unbearable, I turn Alannah around and begin pushing her forward again. I limp along behind her, but I fight through the pain to get Alannah and our unborn child to safety.
We make our way to the back of the store and push out of an exit, which opens up into an alley connected to another road littered with cars. I push Alannah towards them.
“Keep going,” I yell, but she tries to stop so she can focus on my wounds.
“What about your leg? You’ve been shot twice, Dominic, let me help you.”
“No! I’ll deal with it once you’re safe. Now go!” I bark, and she knows I’m not fucking around. She relents and turns on her heel, throwing one of my arms over her shoulder, and helping me run. We’re a team, and there’s no way Alannah would let herself be the damsel in distress. She’s my queen.
We’re in this. Together.
We manage to make it down the alley and onto the street where cars drive past us like we’re not even there, just as I hear the door of the department store being slammed open. Giovanni has a look of pure determination on his face as he scans the alley, looking to finish me off. But he won’t get the chance.
I manage to flag down a cab who stops directly in front of us, and Alannah has to basically push me into it as I lose strength by the second. Blood pours from my leg as Alannah climbs in after me, basically crawling on top of me so she can close the door.
“Hey, that guys bleeding all over my cab!” the driver screams as he turns in his seat to look at me.
“Shut the fuck up and step on the gas!” I yell at the top of my lungs, just as the sound of gunfire starts up again, and the glass next to the cab driver shatters completely.
“Oh shit!” the old, gray-haired man screams as he realizes the danger he’s in and slams his foot on the gas pedal. The tires screech underneath us as the cab speeds away, and the bald hitman finally gives up. I look behind us to see him standing in the spot the cab just vacated, his gun hanging at his side in disappointment.
“What the hell was that?” the old driver screams, his adrenaline obviously heightened from the gunfire.
I ignore him, though. Alannah repositions herself in her seat so she can inspect me, and I can tell from the terrified look on her face that she can now clearly see the wounds in my leg and shoulder. I’m losing a lot of blood, and she has to put pressure on my leg wound to slow the bleeding, because my skin is starting to look paler than usual, and I feel lightheaded.
“We have to get you to a hospital,” she tells me, but I shake my head.
“There’s no way we’re going to a hospital. They’d be expecting that.”
“Who the hell was that, Dominic?”
“That was Giovanni Cirillo,” I say, as I feel my eyes start to flutter. “Victor’s hitman. The Commission must’ve given Victor the greenlight to have me whacked. Looks like the war is really on now.”
