They leveled rifles toward us.
“Down!” Luca yelled, throwing Martin to the floor. He grabbed me, threw me down, fell on top. Mom screamed, I couldn’t see where she was, and the gunfire started, lighting up everything around us. The bullets slammed into the cabinets, the bowls and pans, sending sparks flying through the air. I thought I was screaming, but I couldn’t hear myself over the gunshots. Luca held me down, his body keeping me pinned on top of Martin. I could feel his breath coming in ragged, his blood soaking my shirt.
Then the gunshots stopped. Luca sat up and began firing back, using the countertop for cover. I rolled off Martin, but he didn’t move, his eyes locked on the ceiling. I checked his pulse, lowered my ear to his chest, and got nothing.
Luca kept shooting. I heard yelling, some screams.
I looked around for my mom, but didn’t see her.
“Mom!” I yelled. “Mom, where are you?”
I went to stand but Luca grabbed me, pulled me back down. “Stay,” he said. “Don’t fucking move.”
“My mom,” I said. “I’ll find her.” He turned away from the far door and moved at a crouch. I risked a glance over the counters and found the two men slumped on the floor, one halfway to cover, the other with his rifle clutched to his chest.
Luca started in the opposite direction, but more gunfire exploded out. I heard a scream and knew it was my mom. I jumped to my feet, started running to the far end of the kitchen. I saw her, a man grabbing her wrists, struggling against him, screaming and fighting. Two more men shot at Luca, forcing him back.
He grabbed me, dragged me back down between the counters.
“They have her,” I said. “They have her. We have to save her.”
“We can’t,” he said. “Too many. And I can’t risk shooting. Martin?”
“He’s dead,” I said, then, “Wait, What? What?” I was panicking, I knew, I couldn’t think straight. “We have to get my mom!”
“We can’t,” he said again. “Fuck, Clair. I’m sorry.”
“Luca—”
He didn’t give me a chance to argue. He scooped down and grabbed me by the hips, lifting me up over his shoulder. I gasped as he slung me back then began to run, sprinting for the far exit. I screamed, looked up, saw my mom still fighting, saw one of the men punch her in the face hard enough to knock her down. I kept screaming as they shot at us, missing by inches, the bullets whizzing through the air.
Luca slammed against the door and threw it open, stumbling into a backyard.
Cool night air assaulted my mouth, my nose, my skin. I screamed for my mother as the door shut behind us. I began to hit him, pounding my fists on his back, but he didn’t slow down. He ran for a back gate, threw it open, ran into the street, and kept running until he was too exhausted and too weak to keep going.
I didn’t know where we were. He put me down on the sidewalk and collapsed onto a stoop, breathing hard. We were on a nice block, well-manicured homes, million-dollar garages. I thought I could still hear gunfire, crackling in the night, mixed with sirens in the distance.
“We have to go back,” I said as he sat on the stoop, catching his breath. “Luca, they have my mom. She might be dead. She might be—”
“We can’t go back,” he said, staring up at me. “It’s over, Clair.”
“What the hell do you mean?”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“What do you mean? Luca, what do you mean?”
He got to his feet. There was blood all over his clothes. I looked down at myself, saw more blood, and realized it wasn’t mine.
Realized it was blood from that dead man, Martin.
“This wasn’t what I wanted,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”
He stepped toward me and pulled me against him. He hugged me tight, and I felt my mind going in loops, in circles, panicking, barely functioning.
He pulled away, took my hand, and began to walk.
I followed, my feet moving automatically, the world turning to black and white around me, my ears ringing a rhythmic whine.20LucaClair walked after me through the dark Philly streets as sirens screamed all around us. I stuck to back alleys and lingered in the dark whenever a cop car came roaring past, afraid they’d see the blood splattered on my shirt, all over Clair’s side and chest.
I went to the only safe place left in the city.
Steven came to the door after buzzing his doorbell for two straight minutes. His eyes were red and his hair was a mess. “The fuck are you doing here?” he asked, then his eyes opened wide as he took in my bloody shirt, Clair’s shocked face. “What happened?”
“The Don’s place,” I said. “It got hit.”