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thirty-two

M A S S I M O

"How's your leg?" Lucien asks me while we wait in the truck.

Keeping my eyes straight ahead I nod and distantly mutter a small, "Fine."

"You'll be as good as dead going in there with a banged up leg." He comments which only enrages me.

"What would you like me to do then? Wait in the fucking car while my baby sister is in danger?!"

Emilio rips open the back doors of the van. A look of anger and frustration directed straight at me. "For the love of God Massimo," he starts, "don't get all pissy because you're guilty, we all are guilty about letting this happen. Don't be a dick when people are looking out for you."

As you can see it's been an intense few days. With our people, we all packed into multiple vans, trucks, and SUV's to journey across Ontario into Quebec. We've been tracking August for three whole days. We are also two days behind them. Technically it has only been a week, yet it feels like a thousand years.

Guilt for not being there to protect Florence from August. Guilt for not seeing through August's facade. Guilt for ignoring Florence that very morning. It's been eating away at me every second of every day that we spend following Augusts digital footprint. At night when we rest in dirty motels all I can do is lay awake, staring at the water damaged ceiling.

And I keep snapping at my brothers. I treat them like shit too. I'm guilty that I didn't pass the job over when I was eighteen. Even if Florence wasn't with us, at least Dom and Lucien didn't have to learn how to handle a gun or clean bloodstains out of carpets. Now more than a decade later, here we are. Florence was ripped from me—us, again. Emilio, despite his morals and despite his kindness, has to hold a gun, when he has always preferred to lead us behind a laptop screen. Lucien, barely nineteen, already has more blood on his hands than he does fingers and toes combined. Now, he has to kill again. Dominic, who has only ever wanted to play professional hockey, is now gearing up for a deadly battle.

And for me? All I ever wanted was to be normal. Own a business, take care of my siblings, go on vacation. Not kill for a living. Now look where I am. Injured and exhausted, ready to slaughter a million men for my one girl.

I didn't ask for any of this. Neither did my siblings.

I don't know how today is going to end. But what I do know is that the minute we are safe and this is all over, I will burn the rest of the crumbling base down. Trash all the hard drives, throw away all of our guns into a blazing fire, and never kill another soul again. I don't care if it's my fathers legacy anymore, he's dead.

The last person I will kill is the man I thought of as family. It'll be the last kill I take any joy from.

"I am sorry," I say.

"We know." Lucien says patting me on the back. "If you are actually okay to go, then let's go. I want Flo back with us by the end of the day."

"Alright then," Emilio nods leaving the van doors and calling for everyone to huddle up. I follow Lucien out of the van with a slight limp and pain with my every step.

"We all know our assignments. We all have our earpieces, if you need help, if you found a hole in our plan, you talk on there. You all know what you're getting into. So, with that Florence Young's life is at stake. Put your life down so she can live hers. Don't leave a single person on the enemy side alive. Leave August for me or Massimo," Emilio leads. He stands with great pride and courage. A true leader. I can barely muster a sentence up. No wonder we are where we are. A good leader can lead even in the toughest of times, a cowardly leader lets the real one take over. "Everyone understand?"