We make it to my bedroom. He slams the door and pulls out his phone.
"I don't care! Just get here! Now!" He hangs up and looks at me. "Listen to me. If you do everything I say, we're going to get out of here alive. Understand?"
I nod. My heart is pounding but my hands are steady.
The front door explodes open. Automatic weapons fire tears through the living room.
Marco crawls to my closet and pulls out a lockbox from under some shoes. Two more guns. He hands me one.
"You still remember how to shoot?"
"Better than you do." My voice is steadier than I feel.
"That's my girl." He checks the magazine. "Anyone comes through that door, you shoot. Center mass. No hesitation."
"Got it."
He moves to the window to check for more shooters. The gunfire stops suddenly. Ominous silence fills the apartment.
Then the bedroom door explodes inward.
Three men in tactical gear rush in. I don't think. Just react.
I fire twice. The first man goes down.
The other two pivot toward me, raising their weapons. I drop behind the bed, bullets chewing up the mattress where I was standing.
Marco takes out the second man with a headshot. Clean. Professional.
The third man gets a shot off. It whizzes past my ear so close I feel the heat.
I come up from behind the bed and put two rounds in his chest. He drops.
The silence after the gunfire is deafening.
Marco is already moving, checking the bodies. Making sure they're dead. "Bathroom. Now. Lock the door."
"What? No?—"
"There might be more. If anyone but me comes to that door, you shoot through it. Understand?"
I want to argue. Want to stay and fight beside him. But I can hear more footsteps in the living room.
I slip into the bathroom and lock the door. Press my back against the shower wall. Gun raised. Hands steady.
More gunfire. Shouting. The sounds of a fight.
Then silence.
"Elena?" Marco's voice.
I don't answer. Don't move. This could be a trick.
The door handle turns.
I open fire, emptying the magazine. The bullets punch holes through the door.
Click. Click. Click. Empty.
