Chapter 21: Hands

Audrey's POV

The pistol was small and silver and steady in Giulia's hand.

It pointed at Luca's chest for one second.

Then it swung, and it pointed at me.

"You," Giulia said. "You took everything. Six years I kept it clean, and you walked into my house in your plain dress with your plain face."

"Giulia, put it down," I said.

"You were supposed to stay buried."

Luca stepped in front of me.

He did it without a word, with his big shoulders squared between me and the muzzle, and his hands open at his sides.

"Sister," he said. "Look at me."

"Move."

"No."

"Luca, I am begging you."

"I know you are."

Her face crumpled, and for a moment I thought she would lower the gun.

Then her finger tightened, and the shot went off.

Luca jerked backward into me.

His weight hit my arms, and I went down with him on the carpet.

A second later Luca's uncle's cane cracked across Giulia's wrist.

The pistol flew across the table, and three capos fell on her at once.

She screamed, and nobody paid her any attention.

"Luca," I said. "Luca, look at me."

His eyes were open.

They were clear and surprised.

A dark stain was spreading over the left side of his white shirt, below the collarbone and inward.

"I'm all right," he said. "It doesn't hurt."

"Don't talk."

"Audrey. Franklin ran. The kitchen door..."

"Don't talk!"

I tore his shirt open.

The hole was small, an inch from the breastbone, and the veins in his neck stood out tight.

His pulse was a thread, fast and thin.

I knew that sound.

I had heard it on a hundred monitors.

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