The Code To A Don's Heart

e i g h t

Despite what people believed, spaghetti really was a delicacy. I twirled my fork in a plate full of it and stuffed my face.

"I called my coyote," Kat said and I looked up at her. "He'll come in four days."

"Four?" I asked, hope lacing my tone.

"Don't go all rainbow happiness and shit. We have to contact him everyday at midday for the next three days such that he actually makes an appearance. If he doesn't hear from us, he won't come but you have to be the one to talk to him. Got that?"

I nodded. "Thank you Kat."

She watched me like she was surprised by my gratitude but I honestly was so glad I'd met her. "No problem kid. Your papers will be ready tomorrow."

I smiled and my spirits rose at the good news. I opened my mouth to ask Kat a few more questions about my papers when the house went dark. Kat and I sat silent for a few seconds.

"Does that happen a lot?" I whispered.

"No. It never does," Kat answered me and I wanted to bang my head.

Hope was deadly. Happiness was an illusion. Paranoia led to anxiety and I was surely going to fucking die all because of _m.a.r.k.v.i.k_

I heard Kat's chair scrape the floor as she stood. There was the sound of a cupboard opening and then the click of a shotgun. This was not going to end well. I thought of the gun in the guest room. I had to get there one way or another.

"I'm going to check the power. Stay here, hide if you must and in case shit goes South, burn this house down. There's fuel in the cupboard under the sink."

"What?!" I hissed at Kat's words, standing and trying to find the wall in the dark. "Your words are not helping me right now."

"They aren't supposed to. This is the time when I have to know who the fuck is after you kid."

I was quiet.

"Peach!" Kat hissed.

"Viktor Makarovich, Don of the Russian Bratva."

"Fuck!" Kat cursed, the word dragged out and full of anger. "This is why I don't help fucking strays anymore. If you ever see Kay again, tell her she owes me double."

"Will do," I whispered and then Kat passed by me and I heard her footsteps disappear down the hall.

I hadn't got a full layout of the house but using the little I knew, I slowly made my way to the guest room. I kept on the walls, walking slow and sure. I kept my breaths as quiet as I could and I managed to make it to my destination. I felt around the room for my bag and pulled out my gun and then slid the backpack under the bed. I made my way back to the door and tried to find the kitchen again. I tucked the gun in the waistband of my cargo pants. For future use.

In the middle of finding my way through the living room, power came back. I blinked, my eyes trying to adjust to the light. Kat walked into the room and she looked confused.

"What?" I asked her.

"Something isn't rig—"

The window next to the door shattered as a bullet came through and hit Kat on the shoulder. She fell with a scream, holding the fresh wound. I dropped to the ground just as a bullet hit the wall above me and crawled to Kat.

"Come on," I said panicked. I put my hands under her arms and tried to pull her to the kitchen. Bullets flew over our heads and into the wall above us I did my best to take her to the safest place in the house. The shooting stopped and the place was quiet. Kat's breathing was laboured as she bit down on her lower lip, her face red from pain.