Alora Imari has the face of an angel, but the body of a vixen. She's feared by all. Her and her elder brother, Giovanni Imari, were passed down the family business; becoming mobsters for the Italian mafia.
Many describe Alora as being heartless and...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Salvatore
I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I can't fucking breathe.
Red drenches my shirt and jeans as Alora's head rests on my lap. I speed my way through taxis and cars. I even ran a red light. I periodically check every minute for a pulse. My mind races as I call the first person I think of.
"Sal?" Zara's groggy voice picks up through the line. "It's, like, one in the morning. Why are you calling so late?" I hear her yawn and my hands are shaking as I put my phone on speaker. I drop it on my left thigh.
"It's Alora. She — I — Oh my God. I don't know what the fuck happened, Z. We were— we were fucking arguing and I — I don't know. I told her I'm in love with her. Oh my God, I should've kept her at home. She took a fucking bullet for me, Zara. She's gonna die because of me. I can't breathe," I say in one breath as Alora's body lays on me. I steer with one hand as I press my hand against her wound. I hear fumbling over the phone as Z, most likely, sits up.
"Sal, slow down. What do you mean she took a bullet for you?" Her tone holds grave worry and I try not to explode in complete fear right now. With every bump my hand shifts from her wound and causes her to bleed out a little more.
I take a deep shaky breath. "We were outside of Jerry's and in that dark alley. I forgot my phone in the car. I told her I didn't want her to go by herself. I fucking told her. But she's so goddamn stubborn and proud. We were arguing about the — the fucking car keys when I told her that I'm in love with her. I was right in front of her, Z. It should've been me. It should've been fucking me. But she stepped in front of the bullet. She took a bullet for me. I should've — I should've protected her."
"Where are you right now?" Zara demands. I hear faint whispers of a male through the phone and her heavy breathing.
"I — I'm going to the Mercy Hospital. I know — I know someone who can help," I tell her. I know a surgeon there who helps out people like us; notorious criminals who haven't been caught and don't plan on it. She's the only one I can trust with Alora.
"I'm coming," she ushers. I mutter an agreement and she hangs up the phone. As I wait for the light to turn green, I hastily call up Dr. Camero. She picks up after the third ring.
"Salvatore. It's one in the morning, this better be important," she whispers into the phone. Apparently everyone wants to fucking tell me the time as if I don't know.
"You need to get to Mercy right fucking now. I have a GSW to the chest and she's bleeding out. It's — it's Alora," I frantically say. I hear her bed creak and she fumbles around.
"Go to the ambulance bay in the east wing. If anyone — and I mean anyone — tells you that you can't be there, tell them to take it up with the chief. Apply pressure to the wound. Is she awake?"
I look down at Alora and I shake my leg, making her head bounce. Her eyes are still closed and her skin loses color. "No. She's passed out. But she still has a — a pulse."
