Ferris didn\u2019t see the bullet go in. There was only a scream, muffled through the blood pumping behind his eardrums. The sound petered out into a grunt as Hassan clutched his shoulder, fingers clawing through the reddening fabric. The man sucked in a chestful of air, his breath audible across the empty space. He wavered. Heels scuffed the concrete floor before his body collapsed backward against the truck. With a dull thump<\/i>, he stopped moving.<\/p>\n
Demos wasn\u2019t moving, either. He stared at the crumpled heap of a man in front of him, his gaze frozen on the ever-growing pool of red. It took a moment for Demos to breathe, to take in the terrible, inequitable fact that he was still alive. Slowly, he turned his head toward Ferris.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
His eyes rose to the gun, still wrapped in Ferris\u2019 painfully tight grip. Ferris hadn\u2019t lowered his arm. Demos searched for eye contact, but his friend\u2019s stare was elsewhere \u2014 locked, straight ahead, on the space where Hassan used to be.<\/p>\n
A gunshot from the other side of the warehouse snapped Ferris back into the moment. He blinked, eyes screwing shut as he remembered why he had lifted the gun in the first place. Demos.<\/p>\n
Ferris closed the space between them without thinking, his feet sweeping over discarded shells. His knees hit the floor as he dropped to Demos\u2019 side, easing his friend upright.<\/p>\n
\u201cAre you all right?\u201d he asked. Gunfire continued to swell through the air, a Fourth of July evening bursting and crackling beneath the high warehouse ceiling. Yet, even with the buffet of bullets on plaster, neither man seemed to take notice.<\/p>\n
Demos swallowed. \u201cFerris.\u201d<\/p>\n
With his free hand, Ferris took his friend by the wrist. The skin there was mottled where Hassan had crushed it, marred beneath the hard sole of a boot. He glared at the bruise, the rims of his eyes tight and red. His stare flickered upward, taking Demos by the jaw to examine each side of his face. Another scuff had streaked over Demos\u2019 cheek, a blotched stripe of pink on a plane of white. Something flared beneath Ferris\u2019 chest \u2014 an absurd, scorching tightness.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m fine,\u201d Demos said. A soft click drew his gaze down. Ferris was still holding the gun, his fingers white in an impossibly tight brace. The weapon shuddered. A moment later, Ferris could feel two palms closing over his hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s okay.\u201d Demos glanced back up. \u201cLet go.\u201d<\/p>\n
His grip loosened. Gently, Demos eased the weapon free, keeping one hand over his friend\u2019s tense knuckles.<\/p>\n
Ferris couldn\u2019t look away. \u201cIt\u2019s not okay.\u201c<\/p>\n
\u201cI said I\u2019m\u2014\u201c Demos stopped. His eyes rounded as a freight train of realization struck. Without warning, he shoved past his friend,\u00a0 <\/span>rushing just feet away to another man\u2019s side \u2014 to Hassan.<\/p>\n The man had fallen on his back, exposing the seeping wound in his shoulder. He had lost consciousness. Demos hunched forward, his ear hovering beside Hassan\u2019s parted lips as he listened for breathing. He struggled to hear through the ring of gunshots, but a simple rise of the man\u2019s chest answered his question. Hassan was alive.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2014\u201d Ferris could only stare, fixated in place. \u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d<\/p>\n Demos didn\u2019t look up, moving on to check for a pulse. \u201cWe\u2019re not going to let him die.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n It took Demos a moment to reply. He tugged a handkerchief from his pocket, holding it over the wound with as much pressure as he could manage. It was then he noticed the color of the cloth was nearly identical to the liquid soaking into it \u2014 a deep, rusty red.<\/p>\n \u201cBecause.\u201d Demos swallowed, finally meeting his friend\u2019s eyes. \u201cYou\u2019re not a murderer.\u201d<\/p>\n Ferris said nothing. From the moment he\u2019d broken the door, he had felt nothing, thought of nothing \u2014 nothing but keeping Demos alive. Now, he noticed it \u2014 the color red, the roll of sweat as it ran down the back of his neck. Sensation rushed back to him as Demos\u2019 words toiled through his head.<\/p>\n The gunshots stopped. The warehouse fell silent, with only the hiss of rising smoke to assure Ferris time hadn\u2019t stopped. Dust settled, blanketing the floor as the last echoes faded. A pair of shadows fell over Demos\u2019 back, signaling Benny and Gina\u2019s approach.<\/p>\n \u201cSpettro, cosa fai?\u201d Benny fed his rifle with a clack<\/i>, aiming directly between Hassan\u2019s eyes. \u201cWant me to finish?\u201d<\/p>\n Demos waved him off, keeping the handkerchief flat with one hand. \u201cNo no, aspetta. We need the car, can you get it?\u201d<\/p>\n Benny lowered his weapon with a frown. \u201cOkay.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGina, how are our guests?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThey\u2019re all in one piece,\u201d she said, glancing back toward the wall. \u201cEllen is a better shot than Benny.\u201d<\/p>\n Benny gave his sister a pained look. \u201c\u00c8 una bugia! A lie!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGo get the car, Benny.\u201d<\/p>\n Ferris barely noticed as the man stalked off, taking his enormous shadow with him. He hadn\u2019t looked away from Demos, who was doing everything in his power to slow the bleeding.<\/p>\n \u201cIt doesn\u2019t look like it went through,\u201d Demos said. \u201cI don\u2019t think it hit a main artery, either.\u201d<\/p>\n When Ferris didn\u2019t respond, Demos\u2019 voice hardened. \u201cHey. Listen to me.\u201d<\/p>\n Ferris took in a soft breath, then nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cYou did well.\u201d Demos managed a weak smile. \u201cIt\u2019s over now. Say okay<\/i>.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOkay.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNow I need you to help me take him to the car.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOkay.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGood.\u201d Demos nodded. \u201cLet\u2019s go.\u201d<\/p>\n For once, Demos was driving. The hum of the engine was rising, peaking to a rumble as he challenged an upcoming yellow light. He made a hard left onto a side street, barely able to keep his phone tucked against his ear.<\/p>\n \u201cWill isn\u2019t answering.\u201d Demos said through grit teeth. \u201cHe always answers.\u201d<\/p>\n Will \u2014 it had been a long time since Ferris had heard the name. He was the family doctor, primed for treating not-so-legal injuries in his not-so-legal clinic. No one seemed to mind that his license had long since been revoked \u2014 not his aberrant patients, and certainly not the Giorgettis. The family had a penchant for getting into trouble, essentially funding nearly all of the clinic\u2019s overhead. There had never been a day that he\u2019d disregarded the name Giorgetti<\/i> on his phone.<\/p>\n Never, until now.<\/p>\n Demos glanced briefly at the rearview mirror. \u201cYou all right back there?\u201d<\/p>\n In the back seat, Ferris had taken over handkerchief duties. Blood had stained his hands, leaking through the cloth as he struggled to keep pressure on the injury.<\/p>\n \u201cI think so.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cKeep him warm, we\u2019re almost there. Hopefully he\u2019ll be in.\u201d<\/p>\n Ferris glanced up, watching Demos\u2019 narrow reflection. \u201cWhat if he isn\u2019t?\u201d<\/p>\n Demos didn\u2019t reply. His focus returned to the road, eyes locked on the black pavement. Whether the doctor was in or not, all he could do was drive.<\/p>\n The clinic was small, tucked on the edge of Little Italy and barely visible from the street. There was nothing impressive about the exterior and its dingy gray bricks blended unassumingly with the neighboring shops. A narrow alley led to a weathered side door which, in truth, admitted patients more often than the front.<\/p>\n The door rattled open, admitting the three men past the threshold.<\/p>\n Demos hurried in first. \u201cWill!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe lights are on,\u201d Ferris said, considerably slower with Hassan\u2019s body hefted over his shoulders.<\/p>\n The clinic\u2019s interior was much more respectable, if not trapped in the 1960\u2019s. The floors were set in beige linoleum, leading to tall, wood-paneled walls. A mustard sofa indicated some sort of waiting area, yet there was not a patient to be seen.<\/p>\n \u201cWhere the fuck is he?\u201d Demos wiped a streak of blood from his cheek with the back of his hand. \u201cWill!<\/i> I swear to God, I\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n \u201cShut up, I can hear you,\u201d came a subtle Lebanese accent from a side room. \u201cAnd so can the neighbors.\u201d<\/p>\n A woman stepped out, wiping her hands with a small towel. Her brown hair was only a shade darker than her skin, most of which was protected by a white lab coat.<\/p>\n \u201cWhere is he?\u201d Demos asked, not bothering with introductions.<\/p>\n \u201cHe left an hour ago.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe\u2019s supposed to be on call,\u201d Demos said. \u201cHe\u2019s always been on call!\u201d<\/p>\n She eyed the men with mild disinterest, her attention drifting from their blood stained clothes to the unconscious man hanging over Ferris\u2019 shoulders.<\/p>\n \u201cYou should find a normal hospital.\u201d She glanced to the floor, which was now speckled in red. \u201cHe\u2019s bleeding on the floor.\u201d<\/p>\n Demos was close to snapping. \u201cWho do you think paid for<\/i> this floor?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYa Allah.\u201d Her eyes widened. \u201cYou\u2019re Demos, aren\u2019t you? Demos Gior\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n \u201cGiorgetti, yes. Now are you going to help us or would you prefer to hide his corpse?\u201d<\/p>\n At that, her expression shifted, her lips set in a thin frown.<\/p>\n \u201cGet him in here.\u201d<\/p>\n The exam room was predictably small, yet well-stocked. With as much care as he could manage, Ferris eased Hassan from his shoulders to the table. The woman wasted no time shoving the two aside, parting Hassan\u2019s ragged shirt with a pair of scissors.<\/p>\n \u201cHow long ago was he shot?\u201d she asked, pressing gauze over the injury.<\/p>\n Demos took a step back, narrowly avoiding her elbow as she worked. \u201cAbout fifteen minutes ago. Doctor\u2026?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNadia.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOkay. Doctor Nadia,\u201d he said. \u201cYou his new assistant, or something?\u201d<\/p>\n She peeled back the gauze, taking a better look at the entrance wound. \u201cI\u2019ve worked with him for a year. Never seen you here before.\u201d<\/p>\n Demos shrugged. \u201cI guess I stayed out of trouble.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLucky you,\u201d she said. \u201cOkay, one of you has to help me turn him over.\u201d<\/p>\n Nadia glanced up, her eyes darting between the two of them. Demos, with his small, chalk-white frame and Ferris, who had done little more than stare blankly since he\u2019d first arrived.<\/p>\n \u201cUm.\u201d Her eyes finally settled on the taller man. \u201cYou.\u201d<\/p>\n Ferris complied wordlessly, following her instructions to ease him sideways. It only took a moment to make her assessment.<\/p>\n \u201cNo exit wound. I\u2019ll have to remove the bullet,\u201d she said, keeping pressure on the gauze as Ferris lowered the body back to the table. \u201cYou, Skinny. Get me the forceps.\u201d<\/p>\n Demos glared in response. \u201cExcuse me?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHelp, or get out.\u201d<\/p>\n Just as Demos opened his mouth to protest once more, a groan drew each person\u2019s attention back to the table. It was a dry sound, a breath escaping from a tight, scratched throat. Hassan was waking up. His eyes tightened before flickering open, narrow slits against the bright white of the room. A cough shook his body before he managed to raise his head.<\/p>\n \u201cEiyna ana<\/i>,\u201d he said, his voice rough as he scanned the room. His weak gaze drifted from one figure to another, only stopping with his eyes met Ferris\u2019.<\/p>\n \u201cYou.\u201d Hassan\u2019s voice darkened. \u201cYou shot me.\u201d<\/p>\n His body lifted against the doctor\u2019s hand, ready to lunge in spite of his blood-loss. He had only managed to lift onto one elbow before Ferris disappeared from his vision. A dark shape had blocked his view \u2014 a black, stained suit and muzzle of a gun. Demos had stepped between them.<\/p>\n \u201cYou<\/i> shot him?\u201d Nadia said, now using both hands to hold down her patient. \u201cWhy did you bring him here?\u201d<\/p>\n It took Hassan a moment to put her words together. The burn in his face faded, leaving him dazed on the exam table. After a moment, he squinted, drawing his attention up to Demos\u2019 face.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, why did<\/i> you bring me here?\u201d<\/p>\n Seeing that Hassan had given up trying to stand, Demos lowered his weapon.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s complicated,\u201d he said. \u201cWill he be okay?\u201d<\/p>\n Nadia let out a sigh, fishing the forceps from a drawer herself. \u201cHe\u2019ll live, but I can\u2019t work with this crowd in here. Go sit in the waiting room.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAre you certain you should be alone with me?\u201d Hassan asked, raising an eyebrow as the two other men slunk out through the door.<\/p>\n \u201cYou try anything and I\u2019ll stuff these forceps right in your eye.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019ve been in the States a long time, haven\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n In the waiting room, Ferris had maintained his state of quiet staring, his eyes now set on a frame on the opposite wall. It was an oil painting, a ship with pointed sails against a burning orange sky. His posture was limp, hands smudging red over the knees of his pants.<\/p>\n \u201cFerris?\u201d Demos was seated next to him, hunched forward in an attempt to watch his friend\u2019s face. \u201cI never thought\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n \u201cI heard a scream,\u201d Ferris said, his eyes still fixed on the painting.<\/p>\n Demos shook his head. \u201cIt wasn\u2019t me. I shot one of his men, so he came after me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI thought he was going to kill you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe didn\u2019t.\u201d Gently, Demos placed a hand on his friend\u2019s wrist. When Ferris turned, he could see that Demos was smiling.<\/p>\n \u201cThank you,\u201d Demos said. Until then, Ferris had tried not to look at him. Each time he caught sight of the scratches, the plum-colored bruise, the various shades of red staining the Italian\u2019s hands and cheeks \u2014 each time it unsettled him to the core. Now, he couldn\u2019t help but look, to see the scuffs and bumps right alongside that perfect smile.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m just\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n A shout resounded from the exam room, followed by gripes in muffled Arabic. It seemed she had found the bullet.<\/p>\n Ferris momentarily shut his eyes, attempting to put his sentence back together. \u201cI\u2019m sorry \u2014 about what I said. About being happy for once.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou don\u2019t have to\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve been<\/i> happy. I\u2019ve been happy so many times.\u201d His stare dropped to his lap. \u201cAnd most of those times were with you.\u201d<\/p>\n Demos swallowed whatever he had intended to say, now left with nothing but a name. \u201cFerris.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt was the first thing I thought,\u201d he said. \u201cWhen you were in trouble. So\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n Ferris\u2019 hands tightened over his knees, creasing the fabric between his fingers. \u201cSo, I\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sorry, too. I could have worded it better.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI really wanted you to like her.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI do like her,\u201d Demos said. \u201cI was just trying to look out for you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know. You\u2019ve been right before.\u201d Ferris exhaled, his chest sinking. \u201cI just hope you\u2019re wrong about Alex.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMe too.\u201d<\/p>\n Ferris glanced toward the exam room. \u201cI still can\u2019t believe you saved Hassan. I\u2019ve lost count of the men you\u2019ve killed.\u201d<\/p>\n Demos let out a soft laugh. \u201cYou remember the first time?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo do I. I\u2019ll never forget it.\u201d Demos\u2019 eyes seemed to gloss over as that exact afternoon replayed in his mind. The memory was as clear as day \u2014 the auto shop, the exact number of bullets, of bodies, the car idling just outside with a crimson streak down the passenger window.<\/p>\n Demos\u2019 smile was dwindling. \u201cIt changes you.\u201d<\/p>\n With that, he looked back up. He watched Ferris for a while before lifting his hand. Gingerly, he wiped a spot of blood from Ferris\u2019 glasses, leaving only a faint streak on the lens.<\/p>\n \u201cAnd I like you the way you are.\u201d<\/p>\n Ferris felt a sudden heat in his ears, a warmth that quickly spread through most of his face. He turned away, doing everything in his power to focus on the exam room door. It was time to change the subject.<\/p>\n \u201cHow many of them were there?\u201d<\/p>\n For a long moment, the air in the waiting room was silent. Finally, Demos replied. \u201cFive. Hassan is the only one left.\u201d<\/p>\n Ferris bit the corner of his lip. \u201cThey went down fast.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t think they expected the Hills to be proficient with those rifles. Their mistake.\u201d<\/p>\n The door Ferris had been staring at opened with a clack<\/i>. Nadia stepped out, tugging a pair of gloves from her hands.<\/p>\n \u201cHe\u2019s all closed up.\u201d<\/p>\n Demos straightened at her voice. \u201cHe\u2019ll be okay?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI put an IV in him.\u201d She glanced back toward the room. \u201cHe didn\u2019t like those ass injections, though. Why are men such babies about antibiotics?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019re lucky you were here,\u201d he said as he got to his feet. \u201cWe owe you one.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou sure do.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLet us buy you a drink.\u201d<\/p>\n Ferris stiffened. \u201cUs?<\/i>\u201d<\/p>\n Nadia still hadn\u2019t managed to smile. \u201cI hope you mean a shai<\/i>.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cA what?\u201d Demos asked with a squint.<\/p>\n Ferris stood, leaning in to speak against his friend\u2019s ear. \u201cShe doesn\u2019t drink.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd how the hell would you know that<\/i>?\u201d Demos whispered back. Ferris made a subtle gesture, indicating the woman\u2019s collar. When Demos looked back, he noticed the jewelry around her neck, a pendant shaped in Arabic letters \u2014 some religious thing. It was always some religious thing.<\/p>\n \u201cOh. Right.\u201d<\/p>\n A fortuitous ringtone freed Demos from the awkward moment and he eagerly brought the phone to his ear. \u201cHi, Gina.\u201d<\/p>\n For a while, he said nothing, only listening to the voice on the other end. Both Ferris and Nadia watched as his eyes grew darker, the smile fading from his lips and replaced with a thin, set line.<\/p>\n \u201cWhere was he?\u201d he said, then listened once more. He inhaled deeply, keeping the air inside his chest before releasing it in a deep sigh. \u201cYou\u2019re sure? All right. I\u2019ll see you at the compound.\u201d<\/p>\n With a beep, the call ended. Demos stuffed the phone into his pocket, taking a moment to digest what he\u2019d heard.<\/p>\n \u201cWill\u2019s dead.\u201d Slowly, Demos shifted his attention to the exam room. \u201cIt was them.\u201d<\/p>\n Before Ferris could open his mouth, Nadia had turned on her heels, charging back into the room. The door hit the opposite wall with a crack<\/i>, leaving a dent where the knob had met the plaster.<\/p>\n \u201cYou piece of shit.<\/i>\u201d A tray of medical tools clattered as she grabbed the nearest instrument \u2014 a scalpel. \u201cI should put that bullet right back where I found it.\u201d<\/p>\n Hassan clambered backward. \u201cMiss, I\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n \u201cShut up!\u201d The thin blade met his throat, pressing into the knob on his throat. Hassan stopped speaking.<\/p>\n \u201cHe was a doctor, he\u2019d never hurt anyone.\u201d Nadia gestured to the two men in the waiting room, both of whom were staring uselessly. \u201cThose assholes are the ones you should be killing!\u201d<\/p>\n Demos frowned. \u201cThanks, Nadia.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou shut up, too!\u201d<\/p>\n Ferris leaned in to speak, his voice mindfully low. \u201cYou\u2019re not going to stop her?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEh.\u201d Demos shrugged. \u201cIf she<\/i> kills him, it\u2019s not your fault.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDemos.\u201d<\/p>\n The Italian took in a long, dramatic breath. \u201cFine.\u201d<\/p>\n With even, deliberate steps, Demos made his way into the exam room. Nadia paid him no mind, keeping her glare set on the once-patient-now-victim beneath the shuddering tip of her scalpel.<\/p>\n \u201cNadia<\/i>,\u201d he said, finally catching her attention. \u201cThis man didn\u2019t hurt Will. Let him go.\u201d<\/p>\n Hassan\u2019s eyes widened, his face now beading with sweat. \u201cWill? I didn\u2019t have anything to do with that. They<\/i> did it!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThey? They who<\/i>?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI was told not to speak of it,\u201d he said, then swallowed as he felt the prick of tempered steel brush his skin. \u201cBut\u2026 you did save my life.\u201d<\/p>\n Hassan paused to catch his breath, risking eye contact with the doctor.<\/p>\n \u201cBoth of you.\u201d<\/p>\n Nadia paused to read his face. A minute passed before her grip softened, and finally the scalpel was slapped back onto the tray. She leaned in, teeth grit, her face dangerously close to his own.<\/p>\n \u201cThis will come back to you.\u201d<\/p>\n Hassan gave her a slight nod. \u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n With that, he closed his eyes, seemingly gathering his thoughts. \u201cI don\u2019t really need to tell you who had your doctor killed. I\u2019m sure you already know.\u201d<\/p>\n Demos ran a hand through his hair, momentarily pushing the black fringe from his eye. Hassan was right \u2014 he already knew. He knew when the truck plowed through the loading dock door, from the second Sandro had pulled back from that kiss with a grin. There was no one else it could be.<\/p>\n \u201cThe Marianis.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCorrect.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOur partnership was\u2014\u201c Hassan stopped, his next breath no more than a wheeze.<\/p>\n With both hands, Nadia guided him back to a laying position. \u201cThat\u2019s enough for now. He needs to rest.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFair enough,\u201d Demos said. \u201cHe almost died twice.\u201d<\/p>\n It wasn\u2019t until they were back in the alley that they realized it was raining. Droplets hit the hood of the car, trailing down the glass of the windows. Demos shielded his face with one hand, using the other to fish out his keys.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll drive,\u201d he said as he opened the front door. \u201cI\u2019m taking you to the compound.\u201d<\/p>\n He paused before getting in, looking back to see that Ferris hadn\u2019t moved.<\/p>\n \u201cUnless,\u201d Demos said, hesitant, \u201cyou want to go home.\u201d<\/p>\n Ferris\u2019s hands were open, fingers spread as he let the rain pelt his palms. Bit by bit, the dried blood rinsed from his skin, the tinted drops falling to the pavement below.<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d he said. \u201cI don\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Ferris didn\u2019t see the bullet go in. There was only a scream, muffled through the blood pumping behind his eardrums. The sound petered out into a grunt as Hassan clutched his shoulder, fingers clawing through the reddening fabric. The man sucked in a chestful of air, his breath audible across the empty space. He wavered. 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