linalynnwrites:
@acaptainwrites
It had taken some convincing and some bargaining to get Emiliano to come out with her for dinner, but seeing as she’d barely seen the man all week, she’d considered it worth it. Even if that bargaining meant running an errand to see Max beforehand. She thought that particular task might be revenge for her wheedling. Petty bastard. Still, she was in good spirits as they got out of the car in the Russian’s driveway, hoping that Reyna might be there to pull her away from their business discussion. It wasn’t that she didn’t find some of it interesting, she did, but she knew better than to think her opinion would ever be involved in their work and so she looked for better ways to spend her time. One of which being cuddling up against her boyfriend as she waited for Maxim to open the door.
The next few moments seemed to happen in slow motion. She watches the door open at the same time as she hears the screech of tires, never even having time to turn around as she hears the ‘pop, pop, pop’ and feels her body jerk forward, searing pain jolting through her before she feels nothing at all. Isn’t it supposed to hurt? It’s all she really has time to think before her knees buckle and, distantly, she realizes Max is falling too. Is that his blood on him or hers? She thinks that maybe she should reach out to him, commiserate on their pain, but her muscles don’t seem to want to obey her, so she settles for trying to offer a weak smile instead, a reassurance. She isn’t sure if she succeeds before it all goes black.
Reyna had been in the kitchen cooking when Maxim had passed her to open the door. She could hear him on the verge of exchanging pleasantries as she set the stove top low in expectation of being next to welcoming Jordan and Em in to their home... Instead the loud sound of gun shots rang out and reflex already had her body sprinting to the foyer, heart pumping with panic before it feels as though it stopped all together at the sight of her fallen husband. “Max!” she screamed, falling to her knees to assess the severity of his injuries; a pool of blood staining the front of his shirt. So much blood. She struggles between remaining calm and frantic spouts in her native tongue pressing her hands against the wound, crimson seeping between her fingers. Someone ought to call an ambulance, but a apart of her is too afraid to leave his side. “Maxim, Mírame. No se que hacer, mi amor.” she croaks, the overwhelmed helpless feeling only ballooning at the sight of their son who looks to her with scared confusion. “Vuelve adentro!” she shouts only causing him to tear as he hid behind the door. She’s angry at herself among the mix of high emotions for not being able to handle this as well as she had though she could have. It’s when she finally looks up for a moment to Emiliano that she realizes Jordan had been shot as well, a feeling of bile rising in her throat shouting “Hacer algo!” in pained frustration.
It all happened too fast to fully process, by time the shots registered in his ears he watched Maxim fall back with impact as his arm had prepared to shove Jordan down away from harm, but she was already falling. Though part of the scene seemed as if it began to slow to a stop, it also appeared as if everything were thrown in to fast forward. No time to turn and get a good look at the vehicle or fire back. Just the barest glimpse of black...or was it blue? along with the high pitched squeal of tires that resonated with the ringing of shock. No time to prevent the people he cared for from catching a bullet. He’s frozen a moment looking down at them, gun in his hand that he hadn’t recalled pulling from his waistband and it feels symbolic as he looks at the glistening metal between them as if he were the one who had pulled the trigger. There’s a wail somewhere in the distance of his hearing as he crouched down beside Jordan, hand caressing her cheek before searching a pulse. Lips moving, but the sound of her name does not pass. Then the voice that had been distant becomes clearer, forceful as his gaze meets Reyna’s tear glazed eyes and her hold on Maxim as if though the man were dying he remained her life preserver. Reaching in to his suit pocket Emiliano grasps his cellphone speed dialing the station he ‘worked’ for. “Detective Augustina reporting shots fired at 1306 Wilmet Avenue; two down and requesting immediate assistance.”
In the back of his mind he knows that too much blood has been lost though the hopeful side of him says maybe it’s just their blood mixed together and they’ll both be okay. Removing his jacket he places it over Jordan, scooping the young woman’s form up in to his arms. He wants to say something. The words 'Please.' ‘I love you.’ 'Don't leave me.' ‘I’m sorry.’ ‘Jordan.’ float in the recesses of his mind nothing comes forth as he buries his faces in to her shoulder the smell of her perfume filling his senses for what would be the last time as he cries, his hold around her tightening as though refusing to allow the the only human part of him go. Now all that will be left is the monster.
Reyna isn’t sure how to process what she sees between her own emotions over the man she loves as he bleeds, but she knows by the way Emiliano’s behavior though minimal seems to express more than she’d ever seen of him that this day she may have lost her friend and prayed to God that he wouldn’t take Max to, unsure if she could survive such loss. Through the cloud of her tears she catches Damian’s return. The small boy that didn’t deserve to witness such atrocity so young the way she had seen her mother. She wants to tell him once more to wait inside, but he’s already sitting with a sniffle, small hands placed on either side of his father’s head and gives him a kiss as a parent knowing he hopes the gesture would make his father better. How could she explain to such innocence that this was much greater than a scraped knee. With one hand still pressed against Max’s abdomen she reaches out with the other to pull the boy closer to her. “Está bien” she murmurs for his benefit as the vague whine of sirens can be heard approaching from streets away.