Ice Thug

Capitolo Ventitré

The bullets stop, or at least, they seem to, as almost in slow motion, I watch my boyfriend fall to the ground. Blood rushes to my ears, enough to drown out my screams, but I can tell I'm'' screaming nonetheless.

There's the rawness in my throat from how much it hurts.

Damning the bullets and the consequences, I crawl into the open to retrieve Trey, but Angelo had already beat me to it.

He pushes me back into the cover of the counter and comes shortly with Trey, who has to be pulled on the ground.

Blood is already beginning to pool out on the floor, and it has already soaked his shirt, enough that I can't even see the holes to count how many and estimate how extensive the damage was.

"Ah, fuck. I knew my luck would run out one of these days." He still manages to let out a sarcastic comment. "Ice has finally melted, hah!"

"You...why didn't you wear armor?!" I scream, tempted to smack him but for his wounds.

"I get cocky like that at times, forgive me." He bends his head to access the wounds but lets his head drop on my thighs, letting out another chuckle.

There's just so much anger in me right now, at him, for the most part, but Angelo doesn't say a word.

"You knew he didn't wear a bulletproof vest, and you left him?"

He shakes his head. "There weren't enough vests to go around, Nova. Only eight of them, and there's thirteen of us."

He peels his jacket back, and I see he isn't wearing one, either. "Bobby didn't wear. Fabricio..."

"Oh, my goodness." I collapse back into the wall, my throat trying its best to push air through my body, even though I don't want to breathe.

"Principessa, you look beautiful when you're mad." Trey chuckles.

"Trey, please, stop talking like that," at this point, I'm trying desperately to hold on to the sob that wants to burst through me. Now is not the time or place. "We have to stop the bleeding."

My hands are massage guns on level three as I lift his shirt, and I almost cry again when I do. Most of the holes are in his belly, his abdominal muscles in a vibrating fit to match the movement of my own hands.

I stopped counting when I hit three. I have no idea how in the world we're going to stop him from bleeding so much when he's bleeding everywhere.

"Trey, put your hand here for me," Angelo directs his friend's hand to his chest. Trey applies the pressure there, and I begin doing the same to the parts I can. Bullets are still whizzing around us, but it doesn't matter to me now. Trey, however, doesn't think so.

"Oh, Angelo, we're fucking sitting ducks." He spits. "Give me a good spot and begin to evac..."

"Shut up, Trey," Angelo growls and continues what he's doing. It looks like he's trying to make sure all bullet holes are covered.

"Angeloo..." Trey groans, long and exaggerated.

"Shut up, Trey!"

This time, it's a bark, a yell, a roar of pure emotion, and I see tears fly from his face as he spins his focus from Trey's wound to his face and back.

"We all knew this day was going to come." Trey whimpers when something Angelo does hurts. "We made a deal, and you made a promise."

Angelo doesn't answer him and, instead, continues patching him up.

"Angelo!" Trey slaps him across the face. It doesn't look like it was meant to hurt, but I'm sure it does. Angelo still doesn't say anything.

"Angelo, you swore!" Trey cries.