Chapter Seventeen

Claire

My heartbeat was a frantic tap against my ribcage as I stood inside Judah's bedroom, trying to convince myself that it was likely nothing.

A tree scratching against a window.

A plane overhead.

A hungry bear or raccoon playing with the garbage cans.

We were safe.

It was a safe house, for God's sake.

There was a guard parked out front, day and night.

There was no reason to think anything was happening.

Except, of course, the swirling, sick feeling in my stomach, the cold sweat that had spread across my skin, chilling me further as my gaze slid to my son sleeping peacefully in his bed.

Closing my eyes, I raised my hand to the cross at my neck, and said a quick prayer.

It felt like hours passed as I stood there, listening to the complete silence in the house as I tried to convince myself that silence was good. It meant that this was truly nothing, that Aurelio was just being paranoid and overprotective.

My pulse had just started to slow back down when I heard something that had me wanting to throw up.

A gunshot.

My whole body jolted as my mind raced, ping-ponging from one horrible scenario to another.

Aurelio out there.

No backup.

Against who?

Warren?

An army of his guards?

The second gunshot had a yelp escaping me.

"No," I whimpered, lower lip trembling. "No no no," I cried as more gunshots sounded, this time making Judah jolt and whimper.

"Shhh, shhh," I half cooed, half pleaded, too worried about Aurelio to be as comforting as I should be to my son.

This couldn't be it, damnit.

A shootout in a safe house.

Aurelio hit.

Me beaten, raped, and murdered.

My son left with no one to love him, to care for him.

Just a monster to mold him into one as well.

There was a moment of silence then, one that filled me with hope and dread, both of them battling for prominence as I stood there.

Frozen.

Not knowing what to do.

What the best move was.

Surely, staying there like a sitting duck wasn't it.

If it was Warren and his men out there, wasn't my best bet to try to fight?

My mind flashed with memories of the last time I'd been forced to, knowing damn well that, had the Grassis not shown up, I likely wouldn't have made it, wouldn't have been able to fight off Warren, let alone the rest of his men.

But did that mean I shouldn't have tried?

Wasn't it best to go down fighting?

Stomach in knots even at the idea of walking away from my terrified, hysterical son, I forced my feet forward.

Over and over.

Until the door was closed behind me.

And he was safely on the other side.

I didn't overthink it then as the adrenaline surged through me, making me suddenly hot, and hyperaware of my surroundings.

Enough that I avoided that one creaky floorboard in the hallway.

There was no one in the living room, or the dining room.

But then, right there in the doorway of the kitchen, was a sight that made my blood ignite.

Warren.

With his gun raised.

A sick grin pulling at his face.

I didn't have to stop to think who he was grinning at. Who he was aiming at.

Maybe my instinct then should have been to run. To go grab my son, crush him to my chest, and make a mad dash to the door.

It was right then, though, that I learned that when push came to shove, my instinct leaned a little more heavily toward fight than flight.

I didn't even know where the speed came from, because I would swear I crossed the entire dining room in half a blink.

My arms were outstretched already as my gaze landed on Aurelio, his face pale and twisted up in pain.

Was he already shot?

Was I too late?

"No!" I screamed, shoving my full force into Warren, sending him flying.

But not before his finger could go to the trigger one more time.

Not before the bullet went soaring through the air, and lodging in Aurelio, the blood spurting out, impossibly red.

"No!" I cried out as this good, kind, amazing, strong man started to fall.

Right down to his knees.

Then onto his butt.

The light flickering out in his gorgeous eyes.

"No no no no no!" I screamed, watching Warren's hand reach for his gun again.

I didn't stop to think twice.

That fire that had ignited in my blood at seeing Warren in the safe house spread into a raging wildfire that burned through me as I yanked up my leg, then slammed down my foot with every bit of fear and rage and grief in my body.

A howl escaped Warren when the sounds of the bones crunching in his hand met my ears.

I wasn't even aware of the pain that must have ricocheted up my foot and leg.

All I knew was the gun flew across the kitchen.

Too far to reach before Warren recovered.

And, damnit, I couldn't allow that.

For him to get up.

Grab me.

Hit me.

Shoot me.

I couldn't let it happen.

He couldn't take a single more goddamn thing from me.

He'd already taken my pride.

My choice.

My freedom.

And now, worst of all, Aurelio.

He couldn't have anything else.

I turned, gaze moving wildly across the counter until it landed on the knife block.

I reached for the butcher's knife. One I'd seen Aurelio pull from the block and run a whetstone across before he used it every night. Knowing how deadly sharp it was.

It felt light in my hand then as I turned back toward Warren, finding him holding his crushed hand to his chest as he tried to use the other to gain his feet, but fell back on his ass, turning to face me.

Rage tinged the edges of my vision, made it tunnel as I surged forward.

I had a death grip on the handle of the knife as I threw my arm out with all my might, having no reference for how much force it would take to lodge something sharp inside of human flesh.

As it turned out, it didn't seem to be much.

Because the blade slipped in like a hot knife through butter, going deeper than I anticipated, meeting resistance.

Bones?

Organs?

I didn't know.

I didn't care.

I yanked it backward, the sounds of Warren's pain filling my ear, silencing everything else.

God, that was a good sound.

Good enough that I found I needed more of it.

So I stabbed the knife forward again.

And again.

And again.

I was aware of his cries, of his pleas, of his hot, sticky blood bathing my face, my neck, my arms.

Still, though, I couldn't seem to make myself stop.

I'd never understood before when I heard people tell stories about how they lost themselves in rage, how they were almost watching the violence unfold as if they weren't actually a part of it, but a spectator seeing it unfold.

But as I plunged the knife into my abuser over and over and over, my muscles screaming in pain, my arm getting harder and harder to lift as I kept stabbing, I could suddenly relate to them.

I could see how something could strip away your humanity and return you to your animalistic roots.

"Ahhh!"

The sound of a long, continuous scream filled my ears for a long time until I realized where it was coming from.

Me.

I'd been screaming as I stabbed Warren.

Over and over.

The sound, and realization, seemed to snap me out of the strange stupor I'd been in.

And I looked down, seeing my arms dripping in blood, the amount of it getting heavier the further down my arm my gaze went.

Until I saw my hands.

Completely saturated.

I wasn't even sure how I was still holding onto the knife.

I stared at it, uncomprehending for a moment, until my eyes kept moving down.

And saw him.

Warren.

Or, rather, what used to be Warren.

Because there was no way he was still alive.

He looked like a horror movie.

Soaked in blood.

Bits of flesh spilling out of the gaping holes the knife had ripped through his shirt.

My stomach roiled as I saw his stomach. His intestines visible from where I was sitting.

A sick sound escaped me as I flung backward off of him.

I'd done that?

I'd stabbed him like that?

Enough to rip open his guts?

No.

No.

That wasn't me.

Nothing could make me do that.

Nothing except…

My gaze shot up, eyes seeking him, sure I would see his body there, splayed on the floor. Unmoving.

But the space where I'd seen him fall was empty, save for a stain of blood on the floor.

He'd survived?

He was okay?

My gaze flew around, seeing the blood trail on the floor.

Had he been dragged?

Or crawled?

But crawled where?

Even as I thought it, though, the answer came to me.

He'd crawled to Judah.

Even bleeding, possibly dying, his instinct had been to protect my baby.

A cry escaped me as I turned, about to rush out of the kitchen.

When, suddenly, a man was there.

Gun raised.

Features tight.

"No!" I shrieked, rushing toward the knife block again.

"Hey! Hey, Claire. It's me. Damon," he said, as I tried to grab the knife with slick fingers. "Where's Aurelio?" he asked.

"Aurelio," I repeated as my heart sank.

I rushed away from the knife block.

I ran right past the man I now recognized as the other guard that had been with us since we came to the safe house.

I ran down the hallway, nearly tripping over another body that I hardly even spared a glance.

"No no no no no!" I cried, finding Aurelio propped up against Judah's bedroom door, his gun at his side, his body horrifically still.

"Fuck," Damon hissed, reaching down to press his fingers into Aurelio's neck. "He's alive," he said, then, suddenly, he was shoving something at me.

I took it without thinking, without really even knowing what it was until I felt the cool metal in my hand.

A gun.

He'd passed me his gun.

"We need to call an ambulance," I said, tears flooding my eyes.

"It will take too long," Damon said, reaching down, then suddenly grabbing Aurelio, and lifting him. "I can get him there faster," he added. "Stay here. Luca's on his way," he said. "Shoot anyone who walks through that door who isn't him."

With that and nothing else, he hefted up the alarmingly still Aurelio, and disappeared.

"No no no," I cried, all alone with a body just a few feet from me.

Still.

Dead.

A gun a few feet from his hand.

I launched myself at it, grabbing it in my left hand, the other gun still in my right.

Then I slammed myself against the door where Aurelio had propped himself, unable to move, to even think.

It was like I lost all my senses at once.

I couldn't hear anything but a buzzing sort of white noise in my ears. I couldn't feel anything but a slight chill as the blood cooled on my arms, face, shirt, and pants.

I couldn't see anything but the open door to the primary bedroom across from me, going in and out of focus as I sat there.

And as for thinking, well, I didn't seem to do any of that.

I couldn't explain it.

The numbness.

I was someone who always had a racing mind, each thought tripping over one another to try to get noticed first.

The silence, the stillness, would have been scary.

You know, if I could feel anything at all.

Which didn't seem even remotely possible right then.

I couldn't say how long I sat there like that.

All I knew was the next time I seemed to "snap to" was when there were footsteps rushing into the house.

It was then I remembered the guns in my hands, the need to survive, to shoot my way out of this if I needed to.

"Claire?" a voice called, the sound of it, the twinge of familiarity, pulling me back closer to the surface of my own mind. "Claire, it's Luca. Honey, where are you? I know you have a gun. I want to help, but I'm trying not to get shot here."

A strange hiccuping sound escaped me then.

"I'm here," I called, placing the guns down like they were suddenly burning me.

It was then that the hall light flicked on, bathing the space in light, and making me painfully, gut-wrenchingly aware of the blood I was soaked in.

"Oh, fuck," Luca said, dropped down on his knees in front of me.

"It's not mine. It's not… it's… Oh, God," I gasped, the memories coming back.

Of my hand.

Of the knife.

Of it sinking into Warren's flesh.

Over and over and over.

But this time, I wasn't detached from it.

My stomach roiled.

"Whoa," Luca said, trying to reach for me, but I was already running toward the bathroom, dropping down on my knees in front of the toilet as my stomach emptied its contents. Over and over. Leaving me retching even when nothing else would come back up.

"Hey, it's Luca," a voice said as a hand pressed tissues toward me. "Come on. Let's get you out of here," he added after I blew my nose several times, then flushed the toilet.

"Judah," I said, my heart suddenly speeding up, realizing he'd been alone in his crib the whole time I'd been dissociating.

Had he been crying for me?

Scared when I didn't come?

"Hey, hey, hey," Luca said, going to grab me, but then seeing the blood and thinking better of it, holding up his hands instead. "Lucky has Judah. He's okay. Not hurt at all."

"Was he crying?" I asked, lower lip trembling. "When you came in, was he crying?"

"Honey, no," he said. "He was asleep."

That didn't mean he hadn't been crying, though. Because I'd heard him when the gunshots rang out.

He'd been hysterical.

Had he cried himself to sleep?

My heart ached at the idea of that.

"He's okay," Luca insisted as another body moved into the bathroom, this one with his phone raised, and there was a flash of blinding light as he took a picture. "What the fuck, Milo?" Luca hissed.

"Aurelio will want to see this when he's up. She looks badass."

"Aurelio?" I asked, his voice a croak. "Is he… he's…"

"He's in surgery," Luca said, voice calm, but I could hear the pain underneath. Aurelio wasn't just his employee. He was family. "The doctors sounded optimistic."

Somehow, those were the words that finally broke me.

I didn't even recognize the haunting sob that escaped me then as I dropped down to my knees on the bathroom floor, cradling my bloody face with my bloody hands as the floodgates opened, and the tears poured down my face.

There was nothing subtle about the way I cried then. The wails that escaped me sounded like those of a dying animal. And I couldn't seem to quiet them or slow the stream of tears.

To their credit, the men didn't run from the room.

"She's gonna fucking crack if she keeps on like this," Milo said.

"Say something productive or leave," Luca said, and I heard the cabinet open and close, then the water, before Luca was kneeling down in front of me, pulling my hands from my face, then mopping all the blood off of my skin, rinsing, then working on my hands.

As he just… let me cry.

Like he knew it was useless to try to offer me empty promises, or to tell me everything was alright.

It wasn't.

If Aurelio didn't make it, it might never be okay again.

By the time the tears finally stopped, my core ached from the intensity of my sobs, as did my throat, and my face felt raw from the salt.

"Okay," Luca said, voice low. "I really wish I could give you as much time as you need here, honey, but I can't. I'm going to need you to do some things for me, okay?"

"Okay," I said, blowing my nose into the seemingly endless supply of tissues Milo kept thrusting at me.

"I'm going to have Milo get you a change of clothes. And then I need you to take a long shower. Scrub every inch of you. Your hair. Your eyebrows. Under your nails. Your toenails too. Everywhere."

Right.

Because I looked like some heroine in a horror movie.

Soaked in blood.

"Okay," I agreed, nodding.

"Okay. And after that, I am going to need you to follow on a path out of the front door. Judah will be waiting for you out there. And then you're going to get in a car and go—"

"I need to be with Aurelio," I cut him off, tone desperate.

"I know," he agreed. "Lucky and Milo will take you there."

"But what about all of…" I said, waving toward the house in general. Which was full of dead bodies. Including, the most brutal scene of all, Warren's corpse. Gutted.

"All of what?" Luca asked. "Nothing happened here today."

"What?" I asked, squinting at him.

"The thing is, you were home in bed with your son," Luca said. "And you got a phone call that your boyfriend was involved in a drive-by shooting."

"A… I…" I started before it clicked.

He was giving me the official account of the events of the night. The things that were likely being told to the hospital staff and the police. Because this wasn't Navesink Bank. Because Lettie wasn't there to fix things. And Aurelio had needed to go to a normal hospital. Where the cops would be called. And questions would be asked.

"Okay," I said, nodding.

"You were at home," Luca repeated, "in bed with Judah."

"In Navesink Bank."

"That's home, isn't it?" he asked.

"Yes," I agreed, feeling it down to my bones. "Yes, that's home."

"That's why it took you so long to get to the hospital."

Right.

Because it must have taken hours for Luca and his men to get to the house. Hours when I'd been zoned out.

"Why was Aurelio here?" I asked.

"He was having a guys weekend with his buddy who is going through a bad breakup," Luca said.

"Right. Of course. Umm…"

"Damon," Luca filled in.

"Right. Damon needed some moral support."

"Exactly. And they were stopped by the side of the road and became the victims of a horrible, senseless, crime."

"I got it," I agreed, nodding.

"Thanks, Milo," Luca said as a pile of clothes were placed on the bathroom counter. "Take your time," Luca said, helping me up to my feet, then reaching into the shower to get the water warming up.

They left then, and I stripped with my gaze away from the mirror, not wanting to see myself covered in blood. I folded the clothes and placed them on top of the hamper, then climbed into the shower.

It seemed like I stood under the tap for hours until the water finally stopped swirling red around the drain.

Then it was pink for just as long.

Before, finally, the water seemed clear again.

I scrubbed myself then, getting every inch of my body five times over, not wanting a tiny trace of evidence to be found on me if the police were looking too closely.

Finally finished, I climbed out, dressed, then toweled my hair until it was almost dry, knowing that showing up with wet hair might be a red flag as well.

Finished, I moved to the doorway, where I waited for Luca, who led me outside.

"Mama!" Judah cheered, making me turn to find him with his arms thrown up in the air as Lucky held him.

He looked okay.

Tired.

A little puffy from crying.

But unharmed.

And not traumatized.

"I should probably apologize for how many cookies I let him eat," Lucky said as I took Judah and crushed him to my chest, burying my face in his curls, breathing him in, reminding myself that I'd done what I'd needed to do to keep him safe.

That helped a bit.

"Ow, Mama," Judah whined, making me release him slightly.

"Sorry, baby," I said, sniffling again.

"You ready?" Milo asked, coming up behind me.

"Yeah," I agreed, nodding.

"You remember the story?" he asked as we all got into the car, me in the back with Judah.

"Yes."

"You might not even be questioned," Lucky said. "They probably got a statement from Damon, and are starting to look into this story."

"But… what if they don't find anything to, uh, corroborate it?" I asked.

"They will. Spent shells. On the road where Damon said they were shot at. On a stretch of rural road with no cameras."

"Right. Okay."

"It's going to be alright," Lucky said, glancing at me in the rearview as he turned off the side road that led to the safe house.

"How are you both so calm?" I asked, the pain dripping into my voice again. Aurelio was their brother. Shouldn't they be freaking out?

The men shared a look, then it was Lucky who spoke. "The panic and adrenaline and all that shit… it catches up to us after," he explained.

I guess that made sense, with how often they likely experienced life-or-death scenarios.

"Is your mom okay? And Sofia? Elisa?"

"Mom is at the hospital already. Smush and Elisa should be pulling up soon too," Lucky said.

"Great first impression I'll give to your mom," I mumbled to myself.

"What?"

"By almost getting her son killed," I said, eyes flooding again, and I didn't even try to blink them away.

"Hey, no," Lucky said, shaking his head. "Don't think like that."

"It's the truth, though. If not for me—"

"Our brother would've likely been dead at the docks a while back," Milo cut me off. "Don't shoulder shit that's not yours to carry. This was our problem even without you."

That was only partially true, but it felt useless to argue with them. If not downright cruel. They were trying to comfort me when it was their brother on an operating table, fighting for his life.

So I just kept my mouth shut as we made our way to the hospital, letting my fingers toy with Judah's curls as he fought, and ultimately lost, his battle with sleep.

He was still out cold as I pulled him out of his seat, pressed him to my shoulder, and followed Lucky and Milo as they speed-walked into the emergency room, where we were directed up to the surgery floor.

"Ma!" Lucky said, striding toward a woman who was wringing her hands in a seat with two younger women at her sides.

I recognized Sofia immediately. And her sister looked a lot like her.

All three of them had been crying, their faces splotchy and eyes red.

"No updates yet," their mother said as she stood, letting herself be pulled into a big hug by her eldest son.

Milo made his way to his sisters, wrapping them up.

Whatever strength they'd found to stop their tears up until then evaporated in the strong arms of their son and brother, all three women crying hard.

I sank down in a chair as far from them as I could get, wanting to give them their privacy, not wanting to pester them with my own grief as another wave of tears started to flow.

I ducked my head and pressed my lips together, trying to keep my sobs in as not to wake up Judah, who was still dead weight against my chest and shoulder.

"Oh, honey," a warm female voice said, making me look up to find Aurelio's mom, Adrian, standing there, her eyes soft. "Oh, he's going to be okay," she said, squatting down to press her hands onto my knees.

"It's my fault," I said, sniffling hard enough to startle Judah. "I'm so sorry!"

"No, no, none of that," she said.

Then she was reaching for Judah, lifting him from me, and pressing him to her own shoulder for a second, seeming to soak up that little bit of comfort, before passing him to Lucky, and coming to sit next to me, her hand grabbing both of mine.

"Listen, honey," Adrian said, fingers rubbing my hand. "No one here, or in the whole family, is blaming you for this. Besides, from what I hear, you might be the very reason I am in a hospital, not a morgue right now."

"How… who…" I said, sniffling, trying to pull it together.

"I told her," another voice said, making me turn to see the guard, Damon, coming walking in, his shirt still stained with Aurelio's blood, dried to a dark red. "Aurelio roused in the car for a bit," he said, voice low in case anyone was listening, since our story was about a random crime that had nothing to do with me. "He said She saved me."

"Warren was going to shoot him. Again," I added, pulling one of my hands from Adrian's, so I could wipe my cheeks, as the others came closer. "I just… I flew at him."

"And made it so that fuc—guy," Milo said, mindful of Judah on Lucky's hip, "can't ever be a problem again."

Adrian's hand squeezed mine again, a quiet little reassurance.

"How'd it go with the cops?" Lucky asked Damon, voice barely more than a whisper.

"They bought it, hook, line, all that jazz. Just gotta make sure we get to Aurelio before they do to fill him in. Any updates?"

Sofia glanced back at the digital board. "Still in surgery," she said.

A whimper escaped me, and Adrian's arm went around me. "It's okay. Surgery takes a while. It doesn't mean anything bad."

My head ducked, and I was aware of the others moving away, giving me some privacy to pull myself back together.

"How do you do this?" I asked, looking over at Adrian.

"Do what, hon?"

"This. Be so strong like this?"

"Most of us have been through this many times. I won't tell you that it gets easier. Because it doesn't. But you learn not to borrow grief that you might need. All we can do is say prayers and be there for one another."

So, then, that was what we did.

We were there for one another.

Judah got passed around, Lucky and Elisa taking him back and forth to various vending machines, bringing back endless amounts of junk food that he normally wasn't allowed to have, but I was glad it kept him occupied as we waited.

Milo brought us all several rounds of terrible coffee that we choked down as the hours passed.

Until, eventually, we saw a doctor walking toward us, looking as tired, but not… defeated.

We all jumped to our feet, Adrian holding a sleeping Judah to her shoulder with one hand, and reaching for my hand with the other.

"You're Aurelio's family?" he asked.

"Yes," Adrian answered, voice tight.

Despite outward appearances, she was as anxious as I felt. She was just better at hiding it.

"Aurelio is in recovery," he said, and I swear we all let out a collective breath.

He'd made it through surgery.

It didn't mean he was out of the woods.

But he was still alive.

"He was very lucky," the doctor went on. "He had a gunshot wound to the left anterior cervical region of the neck," he said, touching his own neck where it was located, making my stomach knot.

"Neck wounds typically cause profound mortality. Aurelio was incredibly lucky. Without going into too much detail," he said, likely sensing that most of it would go over our heads, and that we didn't care so long as Aurelio was okay, "the retrieval surgery for his neck took three hours. But he did well."

"What about the other wound?" Damon asked, and I noticed the way the doctor's eyes flicked to Damon's bloody shirt before moving back up to the lot of us.

"More evidence that someone was looking out for Aurelio tonight. Wounds to the abdominal area can be catastrophic. But the bullet wound up lodged in a bit of muscle on his lower back. That has also been retrieved."

"How's his prognosis?" Lucky asked.

"We won't know for sure until he wakes up. But I'm optimistic."

"Thank God," Sofia said as Adrian and I both said a quiet prayer.

"When can we see him?"

"When he is out of the recovery room. Maybe three more hours," he said.

"Thank you, doctor. Thank you so much," Adrian said, giving him a watery smile as she jiggled a restless Judah.

I took my son, occupying him as the family talked amongst themselves. As they made phone calls. Said prayers. Cried the tears they'd been holding in.

Three hours came and went.

Then a fourth, bringing Luca Grassi to the hospital to wait with us.

Then, finally, when I was starting to lose hope, Aurelio was transferred to the ICU where he got two visitors at a time.

Lucky and Adrian went first, of course.

Then Sofia and Elisa.

Milo and Luca were next.

At some point, I imagined Damon went in too, but I was so busy trying to occupy a bored and whiny Judah that I lost track.

"Claire," a voice called making me jolt, looking up to find Luca standing there. "It's your turn," he said. "How about I take Judah down to the cafeteria, get him something solid, while you visit?"

"Oh, ah, okay," I said, standing on numb legs, and handing off my son.

"It's okay, honey," Adrian said, walking with me until she couldn't anymore. "He's been asking only for you," she added, giving me a warm, motherly smile before I was led away on wobbly legs with the nurse, and instructed to get into a gown before I could enter the room.

Taking a deep breath, I moved in, hearing the beep of Aurelio's monitors, finding something comforting in that, the proof that he was alive, that his vitals were good.

"Angel," Aurelio breathed out when he looked over to see me standing a few feet in the room, but seemingly unable to force my legs forward.

He looked so damn pale from the blood loss, making him almost match the sheets beneath him.

I had to focus on making my legs move forward, and I nearly collapsed with relief into the chair beside his bed, the tears I swore I wouldn't cry in front of him starting to already pour down my face.

"You saved me," he said, voice small as his hand reached out for mine, and squeezed.

"You saved Judah," I said through my tears.

"Always," he said as I leaned forward, resting my head on his leg and purging the rest of the tears. "Better?" he asked, eyes soft as he looked at me.

"Not until you're home again," I said.

"I will be," he assured me.

"I met your mom," I told him.

"I heard," he said, smile sweet. "She loves you. And is excited about another grand baby."

Judah.

She was already seeing Judah as her grand baby.

And Aurelio… Aurelio was seeing him as his own.

God, my heart, so torn apart for the past several hours, stitched itself back together.

"I want about half a dozen of them, by the way," I said.

Aurelio's smile spread.

"Give me a couple weeks, and we can get started on that."