Being His

Chapter 36

The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder and blood as Francis struggled to regain his footing. He winced in pain as he put pressure on his shoulder, but refused to let it slow him down. He glanced over at Ezekiel, who was getting to his feet also. The young man looked pale and shaken, but there was a steely determination in his eyes that Francis had never seen before. They exchanged a brief nod, acknowledging the danger they had just been through and the importance of finishing this. Freyja kept her knife pressed firmly against Salvatore's throat, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She could feel the warmth of his blood trickling down her arm, but she refused to let him go. As she looked around, she saw that the battle was mostly over. Most of Salvatore's men lay motionless on the ground, their bodies riddled with bullets. But there were still a few stragglers, hiding in the shadows, unsure of what to do next.

Ezekiel motioned for them to come forward, his gun still aimed at Salvatore's head. "It's over," he said, his voice barely audible over the ringing in their ears. "You're all surrendering now." Slowly, the remaining men emerged from their hiding spots, hands raised in the air. They were teens; they wore dirty, old, and torn clothing. Francis walked over to one of them, a young man who looked no older than fifteen. He put a hand on the boy's shoulder, forcing him to meet his gaze. "What were you thinking?" he asked, his voice gentle but stern. "Did you really believe you were doing the right thing?" The boy looked away, unable to meet his eyes.

Freyja flinched when a hand touched hers. She glanced over at Ezekiel, who was watching her intently. She let go of Salvatore and stepped back, her knife still in her hand, but her hands were trembling.

"I... I just wanted to help. I didn't want him to hurt you anymore." Freyja looked down at her dirty hands, trying to wipe away the blood and dirt. She had defended herself before, but this was the first time she had come close to willingly killing someone, and the thought frightened her. She looked up at Ezekiel, her eyes pleading with him. She looked up at Ezekiel, her eyes pleading with him. He silently took the knife from her hand, threw it aside, and pulled her away from the injured man. He gestured for Francis to join him. They looked to Salvatore, who was now sitting on the ground, his eyes wide with fear and pain. Francis bent down and saw the blood trickling from his chest.

"He's still alive," Francis muttered.

Ezekiel glanced at him, then back at Salvatore. "For now. But he's losing a lot of blood." He looked at their remaining men; they only lost a handful, and he saw Rio clutching his stomach, but once he gave a nod, indicating he was alright, a sense of relief flooded him. "We need to get everyone out of here, especially Freyja. Francis," without needing to be asked. Francis took his sister and led her away and towards where the cars were. A few minutes later, the sound of a lone gunshot filled the air.

Ezekiel walked over to where Freyja and Francis were standing. The former was looking pale and shaken, her eyes fixed on the ground. Francis put an arm around her, offering her what comfort he could. "It's okay," he muttered to her, giving her shoulder a squeeze. Looking up, she saw Ezekiel, and when he opened his arms, she went to him, collapsing into his embrace and sobbing uncontrollably. He held her close, feeling her body shudder with each racking sob.

"Let's get you home," he whispered, still holding onto Freyja. Francis nodded. Ezekiel helped Freyja into the backseat of one of the cars, her shaking shoulders trembling as she wiped away tears. He climbed in after her, closing the door gently behind him. As the car pulled away, Ezekiel glanced in the rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of Francis in the passenger's seat. The air was thick with silence as they drove through the night. Ezekiel kept his arm around Freyja, gently rubbing Freyja's back, trying to soothe her. He glanced over at her every so often, her face wet with tears and her breath still ragged. She looked so small and vulnerable, and he couldn't help but feel responsible for her. Francis sat in the front seat, his gaze fixed on the road ahead.

As they pulled up to Freyja's house, Ezekiel reached over and opened her door. She slowly climbed out, her legs unsteady as she walked to the front door. He followed closely behind her, his hand resting lightly on her lower back. Francis trailed behind them, his expression a mixture of concern and relief. When they reached the door, it opened, showing the Castillo parents.

"Freyja?" breathed her mother as she saw her daughter. Freyja broke down and sought her mother's comfort. "Oh, sweetie, you're safe now. You're home." Her father moved to stand beside her, his gaze flickering at Ezekiel before resting on Freyja. He took a deep breath and wrapped his arm around his daughter's shoulders. "Come inside; we'll get you cleaned up and bandaged up." Francis and Ezekiel followed the others inside.

The living room was dimly lit, and the fireplace was crackling softly. The scent of coffee and fresh-baked cookies filled the air. Francis sat down on the couch, his shoulders slumping as he let out a long breath. Ezekiel stood nearby, unsure if he should leave or stay. He glanced at Freyja, who was now curled up on the couch, her parents fussing over her. Her mother was dabbing at her face with a soft cloth, tenderly wiping away the last traces of tears. Her father sat beside her, his hand resting on her shoulder. Frank looked at both males and nodded to a section of the room; Ezekiel and Francis joined him there. They explained what happened tonight and why Freyja was so shaken up.

"It'll be okay; she's a Castillo." Frank told them as they looked at the young woman, who had been through so much in her life, "She's strong and resilient. She'll get through this." He paused, his gaze flickering between the two men. "With our help, she'll get through this." Ezekiel nodded, feeling a sense of responsibility for Freyja.

"I'll be here for her, anytime she needs me." He glanced at the father of the woman he loved. "Every step of the way. I'll make sure she gets whatever she needs." Ezekiel's voice was steady and determined, his eyes meeting Frank's. Francis nodded in agreement.

Freyja's parents saw the look Ezekiel gave their daughter and knew that Freyja had found the one who would care for her, who would protect her and help her. It was a rare and precious gift, and they were grateful for it. As the night wore on, they made sure that Freyja was comfortable and settled in, and then, with a nod of thanks to Ezekiel, they and Francis retreated to their own room, giving the young couple some privacy.