Milo
I WOULD’VE THOUGHT the last few minutes before I die would’ve been filled with flashes from my past. I imagined when the time finally came, I’d be given some kind of insight on life and faith and . . . fuck, there is none of that shit. Just pure undiluted fear and a lot of regret.
There’s no blindfold or threats as we make our way to an old abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of east Los Angeles. Makes sense, I guess. No need to keep the location a secret from a dead man. Sebastian pulls the car in through an open garage door. The moment the car is inside, shadows emerge from the dark to close the door behind us.
I do a quick scan of the numbers. Looks as though they managed to get the entire LS here to watch my death. My pulse hammers in my throat. Even though, I’m fucking terrified of what’s to come, I’ll be damned if I let these motherfuckers know it.
‘Nesto and Ramon pop the back doors and fold out. I’m supposed to follow, but I hesitate.
I chew my lip as dread crawls up my spine and makes a home in my fucking skull. I fix my eyes on Sebastian’s through the rearview. “You’re really gonna do it, huh?”
His gaze is that of a stone-cold killer, completely emotionless.
“Can you make it fast?”
He shrugs. “Get out of the car and find out.”
I nod, but I can’t get my legs to move. I could run, but they’d only shoot me in the back. With at least eighty guys here, all of ‘em packin’, there’s no way I’ll get more than three steps before they drop me.
Julian and Miguel will always know I died a coward.
I clear my throat and slide out of the car. I brace my weight on the door as the blood makes a slow trip from my head to my legs. The men slowly circle around me. Omar and my cousin join them. As much as I hate to admit it, I can’t keep hiding behind a car door, and once they draw weapons, it’ll do nothing to protect me anyway.
My fate was sealed the day I walked away from Esteban to go to Mercy. Even though my death is inevitable, I don’t regret my choice.
I step around the car door and slam it as my fear morphs into anger. The fire of an unfair life kindles embers in my gut. The lack of choices, the inability to find my own way stir those embers into flames of fury, and my hands shake at my sides. I fist them, and my breath comes harder and faster.
I throw my arms out, and all the pent-up years of hurt and agony come hurling from my chest in a roar of injustice. “What are you waiting for?”
They all remain silent.
“You’re all his fucking pawns, you know that? None of you have a fucking choice, so just do it!”
Sebastian studies me with curiosity as if I’m a rabid animal in a cage. He palms his Glock, using the barrel to scratch his cheek. “I couldn’t do it, ya know?”
I blink at him, wondering what the fuck he’s—
“Josephina?” He shakes his head.
My chest squeezes at the mention of my mom, and my muscles grow painfully tense.
“He gave the order, but I don’t fucking kill women and children, and I fucking loved your mama.”
“Who—” My voice cracks, and I clear my throat. “Who did?” I scan the crowd of LS soldiers for any sign of guilt.
“Don’t know. My guess? One of his cholos south of the border.”
Faces from Esteban’s crew in Mexico flicker through my mind, and I keep landing on Sancho, that kiss-ass fuck. A hissing sound comes from my mouth as I breathe through my teeth with the need for blood.
“Ya know”—Sebastian takes a few steps toward me, but he keeps his distance as if I might bite—“I never liked Esteban after that.”
There are a few grumbles from the group. I notice from the corner of my eye that Omar’s nodding in agreement.
“You know how many times I took the fall for Esteban?”
I don’t know the exact number, but I’m guessing Sebastian does.
“When he took off to Mexico to get into the cartel business, I was fucking happy.”
I can’t do anything but stare helplessly while I wait for him to get to the point.
Sebastian sets his cold, dark eyes on mine. “Esteban’s gone because of you.”
I shift on my feet, my body telling me to run as my head tells me there’s no point.
“You did us a favor.”
I blink, sure I misheard, and sway on my feet as the adrenaline leaves me light-headed. “So what . . . what is this?”
Omar steps closer, and my eyes dart between them, waiting to see who pulls a gun first. “We’ve decided rather than kill you, we’ll free you.”
“Free me?” What the fuck.
Sebastian holsters his gun. “You’ve earned it.”
The eighty-plus members advance slowly until I’m in the center of a circle.
“Are you saying—”
“There’s only one way in . . .” Sebastian’s expression grows cold again, losing the little bit of emotion I saw when he spoke of my mom.
“And one way out,” I say and brace for what’s coming.
My cousin comes closer, so close I can feel the heat from his breath when he says, “It’s the only way, primo.”
And in those five words, I hear, “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah.” I nod. “I’m ready—”
His fist slams into my head before the last syllable is out of my mouth. I go down hard. I curl into a ball to protect my vital organs as I get jumped out of the Latino Saints.
I only pray I survive it.
Mercy
THE CALL CAME in hours after Milo left with his cousin Sebastian and a few other guys I recognized from the night they rescued me. After they drove away, I asked Miguel if we should call the police. He said telling the cops would make things worse.
So we sat and waited for Milo to come home. We tried to play games and started a movie to keep Julian entertained.
Milo said everything would be okay. They were just going to talk. I believed him.
When Miguel’s phone rang, I pressed my cheek to his to listen. A man’s voice said we could find Milo at Los Angeles Community Hospital and hung up.
“We have to go,” Miguel says and jumps up to grab his keys.
I follow him then turn back to Julian, who’s fixated on Big Hero 6. Laura and Chris are at dinner and a movie, so we have to take Julian with us.
“Jules? We have to go get Milo.” I think that should be enough information to get him moving without scaring him.
His eyes dart to mine briefly then go back to the movie. “But this is the best part! Beymax gets his suit and—”
“Julian!” Miguel tosses his brother’s shoes at him. “Let’s go.”
A flicker of worry crosses Julian’s face. I pick up his shoes and squat to help him slip them on.
“What crawled up Miguel’s butt?”
I force myself to sound calm even though I’m not feeling it. “Milo’s been hurt. We’re going to check on him at the hospital.”
Julian blinks at me. “Hurt like I was when I got hit on my bike?”
“Something like that. Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Come on!” Miguel calls from the back door.
I grab Julian’s hand and lead him out to the car, then I make sure he’s buckled before I climb into the passenger side. Miguel speeds toward the hospital, his jaw hard and his mouth in a firm line. I want to comfort him but find it difficult when his emotion matches my own.
“He’ll be okay, guys.” Julian’s voice pipes up from the back. “He will. Mom will keep him safe until Mercy brings him back. Just like she did for me.”
I close my eyes as a fierce pain grips my throat.
If only I could be a real healing Angel.
If Milo’s gone, there’s nothing I can do to bring him back.