I dropped the gun, collapsed onto my knees, and cried out for Bethany. Blood poured out of the holes in the center of her forehead. Yet she stared up at me through wide eyes. Dead. Completely and utterly dead.
“No!” I cried, tears streaming down my cheeks. Pain ripped through me, my insides twisting and turning. I laid my fingers on her cheeks and pulled her head off the ground, holding it in my hands. “I-I’m a killer. A killer.”
When I had married Constantino, he had promised that I would never dirty my hands in the family business … but tonight, I had murdered my best friend. I cried out. I’d killed her! She was dead. Cold. Gone. Lying in my arms lifelessly.
I sat with her on the floor for hours, curling up by her side and wetting my hair with her blood. How could this happen? How cou
