The boom comes first to silence my thoughts. Every part of my body freezes. Leo's large body swings around as he wraps me in his arms and rushes into the gelato shop. Stuck in a tunnel of panic, all I can hear is the heavy thud of my own heart. All at once my senses come back to me, flooding my entire body.
Leo runs out of the gelato shop as the screams start up again. This time they’re more guttural. I wish I didn't know what those screams sound like. They sound like death. I rush out after Leo. He’s at the street, unmoving, unaware that I've followed him. More gunshots ring out and more shouting, but the only voice I can hear is Tony's. Words twist in agony, a voice about to break, Tony screams through sobs. He keeps screaming "dead" again and again and again.
Michael.
I run past Leo at a sprint. I can vaguely make out his shouting from behind me, but I’m too fast. For all that muscle and length, he can't catch up to me. I run toward the large crowd that’s wrapped around the agonizing screaming. The pounding in my ears grows louder and louder until I can't hear anything else. I push my way through the crowd. Elbows try to block me, arms shoot out, but I’m determined.
Michael.
I break through to the center of the crowd to find some young guy I don't recognize pointing a Glock toward the ground in front of him. I follow the line of his gun to Tony, lying on the pavement, propped up by one elbow, his other hand over his gut, which is drenched with dark red blood. The man with the gun forgotten, I race toward Tony and slip behind him so I can support his weight.
Not Michael.
I breathe a selfish sigh of relief that it’s not Michael.
Rough hands grab at my shoulders, but I fight them off. I can't turn away. The man with the gun redirects the Glock from Tony's gut toward my head. I grew up around guns and was raised to not fear them, but all of that goes out the window when I have one pointed at me. Still, I refuse to leave Tony. He’s hotheaded and twisted from the inside out, but he’s always been good to me and Michael. He's the one who showed Michael how to cover up that mess he'd gotten himself into with my first boyfriend.
"Put the gun down, Junior!" Michael shouts from beside my ear. Startled, I now feel Michael’s presence behind me. If he’s trying to pull me away, that means he’s safe. He’s okay. Michael isn't dead. A weight lifts from my heart, and I say a silent "Thanks" to God that he’s okay. But then I remember the man with the gun and realize that this could change.
Looking around the crowd, I notice for the first time that this guy before me, the one Michael called Junior, isn't the only one with a gun out. Junior has at least five guns trained on him, ready to fire were he to take another shot. Behind Junior stand two men, their guns pointed the same direction his—at me. I pivot my head around to see Leo, chest heaving in anger, directly behind Michael. His eyes are narrowed at me and his Dezzy, the gold Desert Eagle, is in his right hand with his finger on the trigger. I’ve walked into a gunfight and only realize it now that it’s too late.
"Get out of the way, girl!" Junior yells, his gun trained on my forehead. I shake my head from side to side and clutch to Tony even tighter. He’s paling, his body growing cold. "Or do you want me to shoot you, too?" Tears stream down my face as the fear finally kicks in. I take several shaky breaths to calm myself down, trying to remember the lessons my father taught me. A guy knows whether or not he's going to shoot you before he even gives you warning, my father says.
"You would shoot the principessa, to what, make a point?" Leo asked. Junior's eyes are wide with a new fear. He didn't recognize me—that was his first mistake. From behind me a gun fires, so loud it makes my ears ring. The shot hits Junior right between the eyes. His body crumples to the ground. I’m not sure what he’s lost his life for—shooting Tony, or for pointing a gun at me.
Shots ring out in all directions. I hold tight to Tony, whose body has gone completely limp, and feel the protective arms of my brother wrap around me, shielding me from the gunfire. It’s only a matter of seconds, but it feels like an hour has passed. The women scream and run away as quickly as they can. Their men mostly stay behind, draw their own guns, and fire. I squeeze my eyes shut and sob into Tony's neck. This is too much, all of it. I don't want to be a part of the Mancuso family anymore, let alone this family. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be seeing this. But I am, and it’s one of those things you never forget.
Michael screams in my ear, and warm liquid trails down my shoulder. I try to turn to identify what it is, but I’m unable to. He grunts and holds me tighter. The sobs come harder, more violently, when realization strikes—Michael’s been shot. My throat burns from the exhaustion. I’m screaming, crying, putting on a display of emotions that might almost match how I feel inside.