Mercedes feels the shift in me. I sense it in how her back stiffens. Don’t the others see him? But the scene is confusing; too many people here to watch the wedding that I swore would never be, the gates less well-guarded in the rushed mess of it. And Vincent Douglas standing in a borrowed or more likely stolen, ill-fitting cloak, his shoes too loud, his hatred too palpable.

In the throng, he stands apart. It’s as if the others sense his menace and keep their distance. But they don’t see his eyes. No one does. They’re all watching my beautiful wife in all her happiness.

In a happiness we were perhaps never meant to have.

Mercedes senses the shift in my body and looks up at me. My hands move over the swell of her stomach, and I see her confused face in my periphery. Because my eyes are locked on him. The gunman who pushes the robe back, the weapon catching the light, polished metal glinting as shiny as it is deadly.

All the noise and laughter become background. A throbbing, muted thing as Vincent Douglas raises his arm, the robe falling away fully. A choked no escapes me as I push Mercedes behind me, and I swear I see the burst of light as the gun fires.

A scream. Someone finally screams.

No, that’s not right. The scream comes after. After the white-hot pain. After I’m falling. Mercedes.

A man calls out. There are two more pops, then a third. More shrieks, people confused and afraid.

“Judge!” It’s Mercedes. Her voice sounds strange, not like herself. She’s shaking me. “Judge! No! You can’t do this to me! I just got you back.”

I want to reach out for her, but I can’t seem to move. Can’t open my eyes. I want to tell her it will be okay, but I don’t think it will. I think it’s too late for that. Too late to have a marriage with the woman I love. Too late for our little family. For me to be the man I was meant to be all along.

It’s when she’s dragged off me that I feel the cold loss of her, and finally, finally, the throbbing pain subsides, and I am gone.

22

Santiago

Mercedes kicks and screams, thrusting her elbows into my gut as I hand her off to Marco. “Take them home! Lock her in her room if you have to!”

Ivy is already in the car and he’s hauling Mercedes into it. He pushes in beside her and the driver takes off before he’s even closed the door. I see her nearly crawl over his lap to get out. To get to her husband. And the misery on her face breaks my heart.