ATONEMENT (44 page)

Nico backed off.
Constantine was not an inept bumbling idiot like Marco. He would put a bullet in her head without hesitation.
There
came a massive
throbbing in his leg. The femur was the largest bone in the human body and extremely vascular. Marco had gotten lucky,
it seemed
.
Nico suddenly became weak and
leaned his back on the fridge for support.

‘Damn
Selange
,
why
are
you
trying
to
save
my
ass
?’
He wondered. She always
worried about
other people;
a nurturer
through and through. Motherhood suited her, it came naturally. Thinking about it all, he couldn’t let her make yet another sacrifice. He didn’t have much energy but he had enough to take on Constantine. Time to get this over
with;
he had a meeting in Hades.
He
sucked in air then
went for it
.
He grinned then lunged at Constantine
and
knock
ed
him
into the stove
but
the force wasn’t enough
to
dislodge the
weapon.
The blast sent Nico crashing against the refrigerator door and he slid downward covered in blood to the floor
.

Selange screamed, hollered and kicked at her captor. Her arms reached to Nico; he didn’t reach back. He didn’t do anything except lie there. An unexpected boom followed by a door striking the wall caused her to jump. Constantine took ho
l
d of her waist, swiveling her in front of him again and rested his chin on the top of her head. Selange fe
lt the inward and outward motion of his chest
. They weren’t panicked or rapid; they were rather controlled.
“
Shhhh
.”
He whispered, waiting for the men to enter
in order to
pick them off like ducks.

Constantine
possessed
the element of surprise
.
Selange
could not let the men walk into the ambush. She
screamed
a warning, “
Go
back
…
go
back
!”

Except,
her warning
came too late.
Alfonzo and Vincent were inside.

Bullets whizzed
by. The whooshing noise
and heat familiarly close.
It seemed living had become a daily hazard.
She didn’t shut her eyes
;
she wanted to
except she had to see
whether
Alfonzo had been
one of the
casualt
ies.
The sad
dest
part
is
always
recognizing some tragic outcomes are avoidable and had she not come, or perhaps fought harder against her desires, the tragedy unfolding would not exist. Personal actions can determine the course of things and for this alone, Vincent
and
Nico’s death
lay at her door.

Her eyes stung
and
tears spill
ed
over as Vincent toppled to the floor
. The blood had splattered; she witnessed it in slow motion.
Vincent turned, his arm moved, no she thinks he hesitated when he saw her, then
a
bloody hole
formed on his forehead. T
he hair, right at the back of his head
fanned up and
blood
mixed with
brain matter
shot outward. She saw it
and it was real.

Her
scream was deafening
. She was
watching Nico die
in replay except this wasn’t
Nico, was it? The result was still the same
and she screamed,
“
Vin
…..
cent
…
Vincent
…
no
…
God
…
help
me…
Vincent
…
please
…
Vincent
…
don’t
die
…
no
…
no
ooooooooo
!”

Alfonzo
rolled away from Vincent. This was the last time Vincent would push him out of harm’s way. Alfonzo’s reflexes were quick, he’d seen the man holding Selange
, yet
Vincent
had to do it. The
unnecessary
shoving shit
, instead of diving for cover
and this was the cost of it. Overzealous and overprotective cr
azy sonovabitch!

Selange was distraught,
in a manic state of shock. There was blood on her clothes and she was
being manhandled by the piece of shit
that
shot Vincent.
He used
her as a personal shield, the
pe
n
dejo
!

Alfonzo’s hand steadied, he wouldn’t get a second chance at this. He peered at
his
men
; they had their
guns drawn
and were
hanging
back away from the line of fire.
They
didn’t enter because Alfonzo quickly gestured for them to stay put. He didn’t want anyone firing indiscriminately and strike his wife. No, he had this…he’d end it, his way. He made a sign of the cross,
leaped to his feet from behind his fallen friend, zeroed in
on the spot above Selange’s hair and fired.
The bullet smashed straight through Constantine’s
eye
and he
bumped the wall like a pinball then slid down
it
,
painting a red line as he descended.

Selange stood
immobile
, a
life-size statue of hysteria.
The
sight of Vincent
, the c
orpse
s
, Marco
in particular
tied to
a
chair with what looked like sewing needles protruding from
both
eye sockets
presented a
grisly scene
.
This was
Nico’s last act of
retribution.
Sickened
from
the carnage
she dropped to
the floor,
palms
pressed
to
the floor
and
retched
.

Alfonzo rushed to her
side. He
got on
his knees,
tenderly
circled her waist, breathing love
, holding her protectively
and whispering comforting words, although he mourned for Vincent
, he was glad she was safe
. His
ribcage
compressed from the loss. He’d had so much and so did she. It hurt like hell to think about
Vincent and he
battled through the grime
to fi
nd a place that was clear. He couldn’t bring Vincent back, shit he wished he could but death
is a reality of life. Some were uglier than others, some sudden and undeserved. Atonement, yeah, everybody’s time is due. His was coming, it’s inevitable, and nobody gets a free pass on sin!

Selange
hiccupped guilt. She killed Vincent…she did it…and she deserved this suffering. Her head flopped and more illness came.
She
cried and vomited all at once
. Then
someone shouted
, “
Nico
’s
down
, he’s
shot!
”

T
he mayhem and its
aftermath
became
overwhelm
ing.
She couldn’t absorb
anymore and
leaned back
ward
on her husband
’s solid torso. He tried to calm her but her chest heaved too rapidly. She gripped his wrist in desperation
,
Nico’s warning blar
ed
in her head. “
This
isn’t about me or Alfonzo anymore, you got to take care of the baby…fight for that!”

Her thoughts began to fog
but
she managed to pant,
“
Ho
-
spi
-
t
al
,
preg
-
nant
,” before she blacked out.