Page 105 of Theta

"If I do not die here today, I will look for this job. Tio Giuseppe has betrayed me. I do not work for him no more."

In the distance, I hear a door crashing open.

"Your aunt or whatever she is to you, Doctor Lia. She's gone?"

Dante shakes his head. “No, she will not go. This is her ospedale. If there is to be shooting, she says she must be here after for the fixing."

"These guys don't give a fuck, Dante. They'll kill anyone and everyone and burn the evidence.”

"She knows who this Pugli is. She says they will not kill her. And anyway, I should like to see you try to make Lia do anything she does not want to do."

"Not much we can do now, anyway," Killian responds.

"Killy?" I say. "Gimme a gun."

He snorts. "As if, babe." He extends one to me, but keeps it out of reach, so I have to lift my arm to grab it. "Take it and it's yours."

I glare at him, because I know exactly how it'd feel. "Let's see you show me a Weaver stance."

He just laughs. "Nice try." The levity in his voice is betrayed by the look on his face—worry, fear, and determination. "I can shoot one-handed. You can't even sit upright."

I groan. "Thanks for reminding me that I'm freaking useless right now."

Every now and then, the sound of a door being kicked in floats to us, each one louder. Killian takes a knee in the corner of the room, and Dante takes a position near him, copying his stance. Since his left arm is screwed, Killian holds his bad arm tight against his belly, his pistol upright next to his ear like an eighteenth-century duelist.

And all I can do is lay here and watch.

My eyes burn.

A door crashes open mere feet away.

"Clear!" The voice is brusque and rough, and just outside our door. "Last door, chief. Gotta be in here. We've checked everywhere else."

"You're quite sure the informant's intel was current? This is a supply closet, innit?”

The first voice is American, the second British Cockney.

"I'm sure, chief."

"Alright, fine. Best clear the closet just to be safe, but my report is that they're both wounded. I don't see how they can both fit in a supply closet." Ahwl-rih—b-OH-f.

The tension is palpable, thick. I can see Dante's hands shaking as he grips his pistol in a way that reveals he is not at all familiar with firearms.

Killian, as ever, looks steady as a rock, pistol held at arm's length, pointed at the door.

"Hold up, hold up." The second voice, the chief. "Are you fucking kidding me, mate?”

Dante, Killian, and I trade confused glances.

"What is it?"

"Big Boss is dead."

Silence.

"What? Are you sure?" The American sounds shocked.

"No, I'm not sure. All I've got is an encrypted message from Sal saying Pugli has been killed."