Red

CHAPTER 3.

I was a coward.

A coward who couldn't do it.

It shattered into my subconscious, the voice that I needed the most that was in my mind couple minutes ago has now sank back into the farthest part of my mind in absence.

It was pathetic really, I was familiar with gunshots. Fuck, I even shot out bullets on a daily, yet the ones from that night stood out to me and chose at this specific time to play back what had happen.

I tried to force my legs to pass through the cemetery gates but it was futile. Guilt stuck behind my throat, I found it hard to swallow. I walked backwards with my hands shaking, the bouquet of roses drop to the ground as I ran towards my Honda civic.

Lucky for me no one was around to see my restraints and as such, before I knew it, a series of tears squeeze out of my eyes, slightly blurring the road before me, yet in regards to the fogginess, I some how made it home.

The Lord was on my side seeing that I went pass the speed limit and still drove home safely. When I heard the sound of Salt's vigorous barking, I touch my throat, coming back to the present.

I found it hard to get past the fact that River was not here. I know it has been a year that it happened and in between those twelve months, I've done nothing but going back and forth to the gym with Nava for self defense lessons, taking on cases that were way too much for my brain cells to handle but still indulge in, trying to get pass my reality.

And the more I tried to forget, the more it caught up to me one way or the other.

Blowing out a sigh, I shook my head. Damn I was a hypocrite.

Somehow I took the blame. Assigning the responsibility to my self in guilt, placing it upon the truth that I was the reason he died.

If I wasn't such a weak emotional bitch and had done something worth saving like called for backup before I blast myself into the room without making out a thought out plan then he'd be here.

Although I took the blame of his death, those men had a part in all of this. They weren't the kind of criminal's who operated foolishly and the thought of how River got involve with those bastard's had plagued me since.

I refuse to believe he got into some altercation with them, River was too innocent for such folly.

Somehow the annoying voice breathing into my mind told me otherwise, men like Artem Pesci wasn't someone who could be taken lightly, they didn't just kill without having a reason.

It was the mafia after all.

I knew this because of a crossfire that took place at a popularize night club in the city four months ago. Twenty people were shot along with the boss who is still missing. Lucky for us, we were able to shot one of Artem's men and took him in for questioning.

He was tight lipped about who he was but he did help when he opened his mouth and spoke, which might I add, were among the blunt raw lines. 'fuck off'.

What a gentleman...

It was his accent along with the tatted mark on the side of his jaw that I remembered one year ago that led to the confirmation that this was once again Artem's doing.

It took Nava and I awhile to gather information on Artem and his men and it was then that we came to the knowledge about the Italian and his powerful position he held as a don back in Italy Venice and the small number of gangs he had operating right under our nose in the city.

The thought about what stringed River's death was always simmering behind the surface and as I glance down at the document and earpiece in hand, determination have me titling my head up while I tell myself that I needed to get over my sadness and do this for the sake of my happiness so that River could rest in peace.