"Luca!" she shouted again as she saw the dark red spreading beneath his shirt, blooming fast and merciless.
Vito, pale and shaking, finally moved. He scrambled to the floor, frantically kicking guns away from limp hands, dragging them out of reach. His breathing was loud, panicked, guilt dripping off him thicker than sweat.
Vee rushed to Luca's side, catching him as his knees threatened to give. She guided him into a chair, her hands trembling but firm, her mouth moving faster than her thoughts. Blood stained her fingers.
"No, no, no," she whispered, already digging through her bag, panic clawing up her throat. She yanked out her phone, fingers fumbling.
"What are you doing?" Luca asked.
"Calling 911," she snapped, tears streaking down her face now.
Luca let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh, though it hurt like hell. "Wrong number, darling."
