Judge freezes beside me, and I look up at him, following his gaze to a man at the bottom of the stairs. He’s not familiar to me, but I don’t have to guess who he is as he raises his arm, the glint of silver in the moonlight aimed straight at me.

It all seems to happen in slow motion. The choked word from Judge as he shoves me behind him. The pop that splits the air, piercing the perfect bubble we had only a moment ago. Warm liquid splatters my face, and I feel myself falling, Judge’s body jerking against mine. In the chaos, I catch a glimpse of Vincent’s shoes as they move toward us, echoing like the executioner he is. I cling to Judge, silent tears streaming down my face as I realize we’re never going to meet our babies. This is it. The beginning and the end.

“No!” Someone screams, and there’s a flash of a familiar robe. A masked man from the wedding tackles Vincent to the ground, and then there are two more quick pops, followed by a grunt, and one final gunshot ringing through the night air.

I see Vincent’s head loll to the side, half of his face blown open. Screams tear through the crowd, followed by more chaos as people move around us. But it all fades away when I turn to Judge, reaching for his face. I want to tell him it’s going to be okay. Except it’s wrong. It’s all wrong.

His eyes are closed, his breathing shallow, and when I roll him onto his back, I understand why. Blood seeps from his head, dripping down his neck.

“Judge?” I shake him in a panic, but he doesn’t respond.

“Judge!” I scream, the strange voice coming from my lips unfamiliar. “No! You can’t do this to me! I just got you back!”

Sobs rack my body as a pair of strong arms come around me, trying to pry me away.

“Mercedes.” Santi’s pained voice infiltrates my anguish. “Come. We have to get you out of here.”

“No!” I scream at the top of my lungs, throwing myself over Judge, but Santi pulls me back again, kicking and screaming.

“We just got married,” I sob. “He can’t leave me now. We’re supposed to have forever, Santi. Tell me we’re going to have forever.”

“I’m sorry,” Santi chokes out. “Mercedes, I’m so fucking sorry.”

21

Judge

I see him the instant we step outside. Through the happy chaos of our wedding as bells ring in this late hour and the inky blue sky sparkles, he is here, lost among the witnesses collected in the courtyard for this next part of the ceremony. The placing of my mark on the back of my wife’s neck in that space I’ve known, on some level, was for me. Was always for me.