Page 81 of The Mad Don
He looks confused, and then he recollects. He killed my brother, and he forgot?
“Lucia was all I had, too,” he says.
“I didn’t kill her!” It tears up out of me. “Why won’t you believe me? Nobody will believe me —” I push the gun forward at him. “My brother. Give me my brother! Tell me that wasn’t him. Tell me it wasn’t him. Tell me, Giovanni, please, tell me it wasn’t —”
“You’re soaked through. Let me run you a bath. Let me get you warm, and we’ll talk, we’ll —”
He steps toward me.
“Stay back!” I scream.
He keeps coming closer, his eyes soft. I fire, and the bullet hits the side of his body. He staggers, and I fire again, aiming lower, and his leg buckles and he falls. He doesn’t reach for anything. He doesn’t shout. He looks up at me from the floor, and a tear slides down the side of his face, and he says, “I would rather it be your hand than anyone else’s. If it makes you happy,Lupa.”
He closes his eyes, and everything in me caves because shooting him hurt. It hurt worse than I can bear. I stand over him with thegun shaking in my hand, and I understand, far too late, in the worst possible second of my life, exactly what this man came to be to me, and I can’t hold it, none of it, the brother in the mud. Why can’t I bring myself to kill him!”
“I hate you, Giovanni Mondi.” I can barely get the words out. “Meeting you was a mistake. I regret it. I regret all of it.”
I turn the gun away from him to myself, and his eyes fly open.
“Yana! No!”
Before I can do it, everything goes blank.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Giovanni
Yana is on the bed, unconscious, her hand bandaged thick, her face slack against the pillow. I’m in the chair beside her even though I shouldn’t be in a chair at all. They pulled two bullets out of my side and my leg a few hours ago, and I’m sitting upright in a hospital gown with my jaw set, looking at her like sheer will can make her wake up.
“You should be lying down,” Kirill tells me. “They cut metal out of you this morning.”
I don’t look away from her.
“She’ll never forgive me,” I say.
“Don’t remind me.” He crosses his arms. “I sent her to you whole. This is how you give her back. You’re lucky you caught her hand. The shot meant for her head went into the wall.”
I swallow. He lets the anger simmer, then he lets it go, because there’s no use in it now.
“She’ll understand.” His voice softens. “Eventually. She’s not unreasonable. Stubborn. But not unreasonable.”
I push myself up out of the chair, take the crutches leaning against the wall, and get them under my arms.
“Keep your end, Pakhan,” I say.
“I’m a man of my word, Don.”
I look at her again.
“You don’t have to do this,” he tells me. “I can arrange to get you out of the country too. You fight from somewhere safe. You recover first.”
I laugh, softly. “You know how it goes. The ones who run never get spared. Maybe this is how it ends for me.”
“You’re weak. You can barely stand. Recover, then fight.”
“You care, Pakhan.” I grin. “I’m touched. Perhaps we should be best friends.”
He grits his teeth.
