I decide to take a step closer, to see what I can see from the back of the kitchen. As I take a few steps farther, I stop short at the side. I see a man, with Nico on his knees in front of him. He is pushing a gun into the back of Nico’s head, and I cover my mouth with my hand to prevent my gasp from hitting their ears. He is a skinny man, the dark suit he is wearing ill-fitted, almost comically enveloping his frame. His dark hair hangs a little in front of his face, and although I am hidden behind him, I can still see his head when he turns. His lips protrude from his brown buck-teeth, and oddly, he looks a little like a rat, as his nose is long and pointy. My eyes then drop to Nico. Kneeling solidly on the floor, not shaking like I was. I see him breathing slowly, his eyes flicking everywhere around the room, no doubt trying to see a way out. I can’t let him die. I can’t let him die protecting me.

I raise my eyes and take in Sebastian standing by himself, his gun raised at the man. Sebastian is casual, but I can tell by the throbbing in his jaw that he is anything but. His eyes flick to me and widen slightly, before he masks his surprise at seeing me there. But he doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything. He remains focused on the man who is still holding a gun to the back of Nico’s head.

The tension is stifling. My bones feel like they are seized, my body no longer willing to move as understanding washes over me at exactly what I have walked into.

I can’t see Dante, but I know he is here, and I would rather die than have him be shot because of me. I remain still as my eyes continue to roam the room before they land on the shiny silver of one of Nico’s guns that he was cleaning earlier. I saw him arm it and place it here on the bench this morning, hiding it behind the decorative vase, so I know it is good to go. I have never shot a gun before. I have only ever held one in my hand when Nico was showing me his collection and how to operate them, so it will become another first for me. I slowly and quietly lean across and grab it while the men continue to yell at each other and negotiate between them.

It is heavier than I thought it would be. It looks so small in Nico’s hand, but as I hold it in mine, I barely have the wrist strength. I bring my other hand up automatically to support my grip.