“I w—” He coughed before he could finish his statement. But it wasn’t just one cough. He grabbed on to his chest, his whole body leaning forward.
“Ethan? Sweetheart?” I grabbed on to him, his face slowly turning purple. “ETHAN!” I yelled.
“Momma…” he gasped, blood coming from his nose.
“ETHAN! ETHAN! LIAM! LIAM! HELP ME!” Picking him up, I ran towards the door when—
BANG
BANG
BANG
The gunshots never ending, all of coming from…
“WYATT! DONA!”
“Ma’am, we’re under attack!” Fedel yelled and rushed into the room.
“Attack, who?” Fuck, none of that mattered. “Take him! Take care of him now!” I basically threw Ethan into his arms.
“Ma’am, it’s not safe!”
“SAVE MY SON!” I screamed, spit flying from my lips as I ripped the family photo off the wall beside Ethan’s desk. Behind it, I’d stashed my assault rifle, and Glock along with three magazine clips. Strapping them, I didn’t even hesitate before kicking in the door to Wyatt and Dona’s room.
Blood.
On the walls, the floor, but worst of all—all over them.
“Urgah…” A sound that didn’t even seem human came from lips—my eyes on fire as I stared at my children. My babies. “No…no. No. No.”
It was the only word I knew as I ran to them. Wyatt’s body over Dona’s, both of them slumped over the bed.
“Wyatt, sweetheart,” I whispered, petting his head. “Come on, this isn’t funny…get off your sister. Dona baby, push your brother off okay?”
They didn’t move.
They didn’t breathe.
They just lay there…like dead things.
“No…No…” Lying on top of them, I hugged tightly. I didn’t understand. What happened? What was happening?
BANG
BANG
BANG
Again the shots rang out. I didn’t even bother to pick up the guns that I’d dropped. But even opening the door felt impossible; my body felt as if it was going numb. I wasn’t sure if I was fainting or crying, but my vision blurred.
“Mel, run!”
It was only because it was him. Liam. His voice made everything clear again and I wished it hadn’t. I didn’t want to see him like that. On his knees, a gun pointed at his head. His green eyes wide with fear, but for himself, not me.
“Mel, go! GO!” he screamed before the man smacked him across the side of the face with the butt of his gun. His lip ripped open, blood dripping down to the Persian carpet I had been forced to buy at one of those damn charity drives with Evelyn.
“Mel—” He never looked away from me, even as he took another hit.