Final Call for Mercy

57

The rhythmic way in which Nicolas scrubbed my back as we stood under the stream of the shower nearly lulled me to sleep. With my arms braced against the tiles, I let my eyes close for a moment as the sound of the water drowned every thought in my mind.

The blood.

The death.

The murder.

The boy.

"I'm way too tired for anything right now, so quit teasing me with this wonderful feeling."

Nicolas' chuckle pulls me back to the present as he continues to scrub. "It's two days worth of work, I need to scrub or you'll be painted red forever."

I already am.

"Fine," I sigh dramatically. "If you must continue the torture."

One arm snaked around my waist before he yanked to him, pressing my back to his chest. His lips glided everywhere on my shoulder and every nerve in my body began to buzz with excitement. "I love you, you know that?"

Um. What? I turn around to face him, a frown on my lips from that sudden change in mood. His face is void of emotion, a habit of his when whatever he feels is too much to share. I bring my hands up to his face. "Of course I do. And I love you."

"Cross your heart—"

I smiled, "and beg to die. Baby what's wrong?"

His lips quirked, but it was with no real humor or lightheartedness. Both eyes were serious, hopeless. "You mean aside from everything?"

I didn't say anything to that. What could I say?

"I stabbed two dull knives into Lombardi's eyes knowing they wouldn't slice right through. Knowing it'd be the worse pain he'd ever feel. I felt his blood as it splashed on my face and, even then, it wasn't enough. His screams felt like everything I needed in that moment, but it still isn't enough."

I swallowed. "Because they're not coming back."

"Exactly," he said, looking away from my eyes. I didn't let go when he tried to rip away from my hold. Something told me he wouldn't come back to me. Not when his mind was dark enough to not see the way here. Nicolas' face crumpled for a split second before he went back to emotionless and composed, but this eyes only grew bleaker.

His voice held every bit of pain and anger he didn't show on his face. "Gabriel...Mateo. They're gone forever. Dead," he spat the word like it hurt to say. "How...how am I ever supposed to live with that? To accept it. They were my brothers. My family. I...We can kill all we want. Fuck, I'm down for that. Murder every motherfucker involved. And it'd feel good. But they're still dead.

"It doesn't feel like when my parents died. I was too young to even remember much. Or even Esteban because I think even that little something in me knew he'd go. I think he said his goodbyes to us and when he was gone I was expecting it. It feels nothing like Gio. He was like a father to me, but this pain is different. It feels like...like...I don't know, Sia. It fucking hurts and—like they were ripped out of me, that's what it feels like.

"It was supposed to be a quick rescue mission with Mateo. We were going to go in and out, just like that. I didn't get to say much to him before he died. I didn't feel the need to, mostly because I knew he wanted to be alone. And then he was gone. Just like fucking that.

"And Gabriel." Tears brimmed at his eyes but he blinked them away. "He was gone, disappeared. Those hours were agonizing. And they were full of me knowing what was going to happen and denying it to be true. I knew we'd never find him and I hated myself for thinking it. And when Lombardi appeared my whole world rocked. I knew it would happen. I knew we'd lost and all I could think about was how we'd fought a few weeks before. He was going through shit and I had no idea how to help him.