Ironically, that's when Silas slows, and my attention is drawn forward past Silas—the whole crew is clustered together on this side of another door.
"Pugli is just ahead," I hear someone say.
"You know what's behind us?" I whisper. "A fuck-ton of rats so big I could ride them into battle."
"And yet," a woman's voice says—Inez/Sophia, "the largest rat of them all is on the other side of that door."
"Do we have a plan?" Nicolae says. "Or just go through and hope for the best? Either way, I am not waiting. I have not been this close to him since…" he trails off, growling a sigh.
"We have no idea what's on the other side of that door," Big Voice says—Chance. "Could be just Pugli and Boss, could be a whole fucking army, could be nothing at all."
Nico shoves through the crowd. "Enough delay."
Solomon grabs his hand before he can open the door. "No. Not like that. Be smart."
Nicolae growls, but stands aside. Solomon gestures at Saxon and Rev, who move up with him. Rev grabs the handle, standing so he can open it without standing in the opening. Saxon shifts his grip on his rifle, tucking the butt tighter against his shoulder, and nods at his brother. The two stand shoulder to shoulder for a beat, and then nod at Rev in unison. Rev twists the knob silently and then slowly eases the door open; a dim orange-yellow glow fills the widening gap.
Solomon peers through the opening from opposite Rev, seems satisfied he won't be filled with holes, and ghosts through the opening with Saxon on his heels; Rev follows Saxon and shifts to the side as soon as he's through.
Rev gestures for the rest of us to come through—Solomon kicks the door wide while flicking on the flashlight under his barrel. "Roberto Pugli! Hands up!"
I've always wondered why cops shout at criminals to stop when they clearly have no intention of doing so. Why waste your breath? Stop, stop! Right. Becausethat'sever worked.
And here, too—Solomon tells Pugli to put his hands up. But obviously, Pugli isn't going to do that. So why bother?
My brain fumbles off the tangent when I assess the situation in front of me.
Jakob is zip-tied to a folding chair, on a thick iron pedestal barely wide enough for the chair to fit on; above, a matching metal cylinder…which is descending. It's dim in here, but even in this low light, I can see that he's wan and pale, eyes heavy-lidded and heavy, forehead wrinkled in pain.
Pugli is standing behind Jakob with a gun pressed to the back of his skull as the cylinder above slowly grinds downward toward Jakob.
"Ah-ah-ah," Pugli says, "Not another step. Not another word." He gestures upward. "You have moments at most."
We all freeze.
"Lash." Pugli’s voice is cold and ugly with hate. "Gun on the ground, walk to me. Hands on your head."
Nico sets his pistol on the ground and puts his hands on his head, stepping slowly through the cluster of killers.
Jakob groans.
Nico moves toward Pugli, and when he's within reach, Pugli snags him by the arm and shoves his gun against the back of his head while backing away.
"Finally I have you," Pugli purrs. "Finally, you die."
Fuck this.
I couldn't begin to tell you what comes over me. I just…I have to do something.
I feel my body moving, but I have no control over my limbs—over my arms as they raise my pistol. I put the iron sights on the naked light bulb.
No one is paying attention to little ol’ me.
I squeeze the trigger.
The gun barks, making my ears ring, and it jerks in my hands.
Chaos ensues as we're all plunged into darkness.
