“It’s safe,” he said. “The walls are reinforced with bullet-resistant material. It is temperature-controlled. There is food and water. And once you lock it from the inside, no one can get in. It’s the safest place in the entire borough. And there is a camera feed right here,” he said, dragging me inside to show me the screen beside the door. “Only unlock the door if you see Primo and he tells you it’s safe, okay?”
“I can’t. You can’t put me in—“ I started, yanking away, moving out of the freezer. Just as a bullet ripped through the glass of the building, lodging in the wall.
A small shriek escaped me as Vissi bent low, shoving a shoulder into my midsection, and tossing me over his shoulder.
“You need to stay, do you hear me? This is not good,” he added, jaw tight. “Stay,” he said, dropping me down onto my feet. “And lock this door when I leave, got it?”
Not sure if I was more scared of being trapped in the room, or being shot outside of it, I just gave him a nod as he walked out of the freezer, then closed the door.
It wasn’t until he pounded on the door and said, “Lock it, Isabella,” that I moved forward to press the red lock button, sealing myself into what had always been my biggest fear. Small spaces.
Except, maybe, it wasn’t my biggest fear anymore.
Being claustrophobic paled in comparison to the idea of getting shot.
And that somehow paled in comparison to knowing these men that I knew and cared about—especially Primo—were out there in the street getting shot at.
What happened if something happened to them while I was trapped in the freezer?
No.
Nope.
I couldn’t let my mind go there.
My stomach twisted hard at even entertaining it for a second.
Because Primo and I had just finally come to a truce, had decided to both be adults about the situation, go into our marriage as partners, and see what we could make out of it.
I had a sneaking suspicion that it could be something truly great if I finally gave it a chance to be.
A good, loyal husband who provided and cared in his own way, a kid or two that we could dote all our love on.
It wasn’t exactly how I planned out my happily-ever-after, but I was starting to see that it could be a new version of that. An updated, mature version of it.
Shaking from my actual head to toe and not sure my legs would keep holding me, I moved back and dropped down on the chair, bringing my hands to my face, and taking slow, deep breaths.
I needed to stay calm.
It wasn’t going to do anyone any good for me to work myself into a complete panic attack.
Trying to keep my calm under such an over-the-top scenario, though, proved harder than I could have anticipated as what felt like hours passed. There was a time stamp on the little TV screen beside the door, but I was too shaken to get up and check it. And, quite frankly, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know how much time had passed without Primo coming to look for me.
That couldn’t be good, right?
The freezer was completely insulated, the walls too thick to hear anything outside of, so I was stuck in there with nothing but my measured breaths to keep me company. And drive me, little by little, insane.
I almost breathed myself completely numb with all the extra oxygen when I saw a shadowy figure move into the camera feed.
My heart flew into my throat when it didn’t come right over toward the door, look at the camera, and show me the face of the man I’d married through force, but was actively choosing to start a real relationship with.
Was it someone else?
Vissi? Dawson? Dulles? Terzo?
No.
No, it didn’t fit this guy with his back to the camera.
It looked like Primo.
But if it was Primo, why wasn’t he coming over to tell me it was safe to come out? Why wasn’t he bringing me upstairs to make good on that promise he’d made earlier?
Why was I still in a box he knew I hated?
Taking another breath, I moved closer to the camera, watching it, wishing the room outside the freezer was just a little bit brighter.
But then the figured turned.
Turned.
And dropped to his knees.
And right before he brought his hands up to cover his face, I saw it was him.
Primo.
And something was really, really freaking wrong.
My hand slammed into the lock release.
I pushed hard against the door, then flew over toward Primo, dropping down in front of him. Both of my hands reached out, framing his neck.
“What’s the matter? What happened?” I asked, feeling the grief just pouring off of him. “Vissi?” I asked, stomach clenching at the idea that the man who’d risked himself to get me safe might not have made it. “Dawson? Dulles?” I went on, heart crushing at the idea of the men who’d been so nice to me from the beginning no longer being around. “Terzo,” I said, somehow knowing it even before the name left my lips. “Was it Terzo?” I asked, then watched as Primo’s body folded more inward on itself. “Oh, Primo,” I said, feeling the tears filling my eyes.
Did I have the same bond with Terzo as I had with Dawson and Dulles? No. But it was still Primo’s brother.
My arms reached for my husband, pulling him against me, holding him as he tried to come to terms with the loss.
A while later, Vissi walked into the room, shoulders low, face defeated, a whole arm of his gray jacket bloody like he’d taken a bullet himself.
“We gotta get upstairs,” he said, voice uncharacteristically hollow.
“Okay,” I agreed, nodding at him, knowing that in this situation, it was my turn to take the lead, to be the strong one, to be there for my partner when he needed me.
I got to my feet, reaching down to pull Primo back onto his as well.
I wrapped an arm around his lower back, and pressed the other to his chest as I led him back toward the elevator.
Vissi gave me a nod, staying out of the car, and letting us ride up alone, knowing that Primo needed some time to grieve, to process, and not wanting to intrude.
I didn’t know how to comfort someone who’d just lost a brother. That was so outside of my wheelhouse. But I did know that Terzo’s blood was all over Primo’s hands and shirt. I could at least help him with that.
So I led him through the apartment and up into the master bath, turning on the water in the shower, then moving back toward Primo, helping him out of his clothes as he just stood there, completely lost in his own grief. I wasn’t even sure he even really registered my presence right then.
But that was okay.
It wasn’t about me.
Once I had him undressed, I led him toward the shower, intending to go back and take off my own clothes first, but his hand refused to let me go, pulling me inside and under the spray of water with him.
My hands slid over his ribs, then wrapped around him as I moved into his chest. “I’m so sorry, Primo,” I said, giving his big body a squeeze. “I don’t know what else to say. Or what to do. So I’m just going to be here, okay?” I said, giving him another squeeze. “If you need anything, you can tell me. But for now, we can just do this,” I added.
I don’t know how long we stood there under the spray.
But I made sure the blood was gone before I finally cut off the water when we both started to sway a bit from standing so long.