There were some ladies at the barbecue spot. They looked afraid as they screamed. Of course, they were beautiful, but they weren't my Isabella. So I shot them all and observed someone playing dead on the kitchen floor, mingling with several dead bodies. His back moved up and down as he breathed in and out. So I walked to him and raised him by the collar. His eyes were closed, but he blinked after I slapped him across his left cheek.
“You think you're smart enough to play dead?”
“No.” He said with a thick accent. Tears filled his eyes, and he found it hard to swallow his saliva. He managed to gulp it down, and his breath smelled of garlic.
“Please, I'm sorry. Don't kill me.”
“If you want to live, then tell me where she is…where's Isabella?”
“She's with you, at your place,” he said, and I slapped him again.
“Wrong answer,” I said. “Where is she?” My eyes were burning with rage, and I think he saw it. I moved him to the counter and punched him in the face until he had a bloody nose.
“I don't know, sir. I don't know where. I'm just a servant.”
I threw him to the ground and shot him in the head. I had hoped that he'd be the one to lead me to her, but he turned out to be useless.
I began to search every door in the safe house. Each room had a distinct scent. The living room smelled of smoke andgunpowder. The kitchen smelled of burnt food. Some rooms had the scent of hairspray, and the bathroom smelled of urine. There was a door at the far corner on the top floor, and I walked in. Two ladies sat in shock when I opened the door. Fear plastered over their faces with tears trickling down their cheeks.
“Where is she?”
They both looked at each other, speaking Italian. I already knew where this was going, so I shot the lady on the left, and the lady on the right shouted like she'd seen a monster.
“It’s okay, stop crying. 'll let you go if you just tell me where she is.” She sobbed for a short while and shook her head to the side.
“Oh. You don't know?” She didn't reply. I sighed, raised the gun to her chest, and shot her twice before I walked out of the room.
The exchange of gunshots continued outside the safe house as everyone inside was dead, yet I couldn't help but think that I had started an unnecessary war if I didn't find Isabella.
Each bedroom was empty with dead people on the floor. I heard a voice from one of the rooms I had already searched. I walked back in and noticed there was a separate door. The voice increased in crescendo the more I approached, and when I opened it, I was stunned to see Isabella standing and alive. I knew it was her because of the coat and her hair. Her back faced me, so I walked closer to get a better view. She pointed the pistol at Marcos's head, and he sobbed helplessly like a child. Her hands shook, and I thought she was both willing and unwilling to shoot him. I knew this because her finger wasn't on the trigger.
“Please, Bella. Believe me.” He begged. His eyes were red and swollen with tears.
“Shut up. You're nothing but a coward,” she said, and I was impressed at her response. If I were to get this over with, for every plea of mercy, I would shoot different parts of his body, from his feet to his hands, until he ran out of blood. I felt her response gave him hope instead of fear, and that's why he kept pleading, trying to see if he could reason with her.
“I'm not a coward, Isabella, if I didn't tell Caruso that I'd hand you over to him, he’d kill me. It's them. They're the ones who made me become this person.”
“You're pathetic,” Isabella said in retort. “You watched Giovanni die when you could have saved him, yet you beg because you think your life is worth saving? Giovanni's blood is in your hands, and I would only be a bigger coward if I let you live.”
Isabella's hands shook. Her index finger finally touched the trigger, and Marco's eyes rained down tears while he kept pleading. Slowly, her finger pressed on the trigger, so I held her hand and brought it low.
“Hey, it's okay,” I said to her startled face.
“What are you doing here?” She asked, cleaning the tears from her eyes.
“I'm here to save you, Isabella. You don't need to get yourself dirty for him. That's my job, okay?” I kissed her temples and looked back at Marco.
Her body shook after she watched the first shot pass the center of his forehead. The second shot went through the same hole, and the third passed through his heart.
I was hoping for her to cry. Perhaps show some affection that Marco is now dead. But she stood, unflinching to the reality, like nothing in that moment mattered.
“Come on. Let's get you out of here.”
We walked outside the room and noticed how the safe house looked like a massive dump site. After we made our way down the staircase, Yuri walked up to us and broke the news.
“There's more Italians now, and I'm afraid we might be outnumbered.”
I walked out of the house and saw Caruso. The man I intended to kill and bend his men to my will. He stood rigid, shooting towards us, right before I had a flash of the dream and how I had Caruso at gunpoint.
