Oriana slipped the black hood up to cover her blonde hair, then pulled up the cloth to cover her mouth and lower face. She'd stalked Ramirez Palomono for ten days, watching him from a distance. The National President of the Tribe MC spent the first few days in his clubhouse in Ohio, surrounded by guards. Oriana had scouted the place, looking for a way to sneak in- or a long distance shot with a rifle- but it was a tough nut to crack. Maybe she could have done it. Maybe. But if she’d failed, Ramirez had enough resources to turtle up for months, and these boys who'd hired her wanted the job done right. Fortunately, Ramirez was soon on the move. 

He'd headed northeast, protected in an armored vehicle and escorted by two dozen men on motorcycles, and a few women as well. Oriana followed them, stealing a new car at every rest stop and leaving the old one behind so as not to arouse their suspicion about being followed. This continued off and on for two days until, finally, they made camp somewhere vulnerable, pitching tents in a field.

Oriana had pulled off the road and hiked to the encampment, where she removed her bincolars and studied the set up. The motorcycles, obviously, didn’t have much room for storage, but a couple of big trucks in the convoy had soon set up sturdy, semi-permanent tents that looked and felt more like buildings. They were arranged in a circle, with one large tent in the center, which she assumed belonged to Ramirez. Three campfires were spread out through the encampment.

Why outside? Kon had mentioned most members were Native American. A ritual thing? It seemed more likely that they just wanted to take advantage of a warm evening and get drunk under the stars. If so, they were feeling confident. Arrogant. Ori changed into black boots, black pants, and a long sleeved black turtleneck with black leather gloves. Despite the unseasonably warm weather, she also had a black winter hat on; she tucked her blonde hair underneath it. She lay still on her ridge overlooking the camp, putting her head down on her arm to rest. She would wait until the Tribe had celebrated and, hopefully helped by alcohol’s sweet embrace, headed to bed.

The new moon meant that the sky was darker, and the stars shone brighter. Away from civilization and the light pollution of the city, with only the starlight and the dim, dying campfires providing illumination, the shadows here were deeper and darker than most were accustomed to. It was sometime between 2 and 3 AM; Oriana didn’t dare check her watch this close to the camp. Like a lioness slowly approaching a herd of prey, Ori had crawled through the field with her silenced pistol in hand.

A silenced pistol, of course, was anything but. It was still loud enough to attract a ton of attention, especially as quiet as it was out here. But still… better than nothing. Her knife was waiting behind her on her belt. She could draw it quickly if needed, but for now she didn’t want to risk anyone catching sight of the blade in the darkness.

Oriana moved even quieter as she stalked closer to one of the tents on the outside. She switched from crawling on her stomach to crawling on her hands and feet, then popped up and took cover on the side of one of the tents. Now the knife came out.

She moved through the camp like a thief in the night, sticking to the shadows. Oriana played her approach like a string instrument, alternately holding a note and indulging in a graceful flurry of movement. Most of the people had retreated inside their tents, but a few were still around the campfires, which Oriana avoided carefully. The center tent was, at least, blocked from view even if it was slightly harder to reach. One man was standing guard; Ori slipped around the other side to approach him from the back. As the man looked up at the stars, one hand covered his mouth while a knife expertly slit his throat. Oriana tried to soften the man’s descent to his knees, then the ground. 

When the guard was removed, she slowly walked inside the tent, pistol at the ready. She froze; two men were in there. The one lying against the far wall seemed like he was a little more put together- he must be the President. The rough looking man who was sleeping closer to the door… must be the Sergeant at Arms. Good thing she’d taken the guard down silently. 

Oriana knelt down, not moving her eyes from the Sergeant at Arms as she holstered her pistol and removed a knife from her calf. She’d try to do it silently, but she’d be ready just in case. Taking a deep breath, she drove one knife into the throat of the Sergeant at Arms, then leaped for Ramirez. He was awake faster than she’d anticipated, and he struck her in midair, knocking her to the side with a blow to her head that took off her hat and left her disoriented. Ramirez delivered a punch to her stomach that dropped her to her knees, but she’d driven her knife into his heart, and they fell to the ground together. 

Fuck. Too much noise. She heard voices. Moving as fast as she could, Ori sliced off Ramirez’s patch that said “El Presidente” and stuck it in her pocket. As she’d cut the patch, she found some papers inside a pocket. Without time to read them, she folded them and stuck them in her pockets as well. The voices were louder now. Grimacing as she recovered from the strikes to her stomach and head, Ori took a deep breath and moved toward the exit. She moved as quickly as she could, trading speed for stealth as she made her way toward the ridge. 

Hearing shouts right behind her, Oriana turned and saw two men looking at her; she dropped them with three gunshots and took off running. She made it to the edge of the camp before she realized she’d never make it. Instead, she turned back and climbed on one of the motorcycles that had been left with the key in the ignition.

How hard could it be to drive one of those-

The bike jerked forward and nearly fell on top of Ori’s leg before she managed to right it. Now it seemed like the whole camp was roused. Starting slow, she fed the engine, and picked up speed as she made it halfway to where her car was parked on the ridge. She had just started to relax, enjoying a few seconds of relatively smooth riding with the wind in her hair, when a rifle cracked and dirt kicked up right in front of her. Oriana did her best to maintain the bike’s balance, but she failed- the front tire stuck and sent Ori flying over the handlebars.

Landing, she felt multiple things break and tear within her, and she gasped in pain, lying motionless despite the gunshots and shouts around her. Her body protested the slightest movement as Oriana forced herself to her feet and began hobbling toward her car. Focusing, trying to block out the pain, she was three steps away from the car when the gunshot struck her left thigh and dropped her to the ground.

Ori lay there for a moment, stunned, wondering if she was already dead. She’d been an assassin since she was fourteen, but her targets were usually political. Outside of being shot in Italy, she couldn’t ever remember being hurt this bad. And that wasn’t even that long ago…

God, she thought, let me survive this. Let me get back to her. No more contracts like this, never again. Please. God. Fuck that hurt…

Oriana pulled herself into the car with her arms and one leg. A couple bullets hit the car and one smashed a rear window. As Oriana turned the key and pulled out toward the highway, she heard the sound of motorcycles revving behind her.

Ori couldn’t recall another scenario where her death seemed more certain, and she wasn’t sure whether the coldness in her guts was from the physical damage or her own fear.

The ridge was closer to the road than the encampment, and she sped along the highway for a dozen seconds until she found what she was looking for. Driving the car off the road and parking it behind a group of trees, Ori limped out into the woods.

On the highway, these guys would catch her. If she was lucky, they’d drive right past her and lose her for good. More likely, they’d jet ahead trying to catch up with her before realizing she’d ditched the car. Then they’d backtrack and find it.

Oriana limped into the woods with her thigh, collarbone, and abdomen all screaming in pain.

As soon as she had limped a decent way into the forest, she paused briefly to remove a small length of rope from her belt and tie a tourniquet around her thigh. Oriana moved as quickly as she could, always moving toward the thickest and darkest part of the forest in front of her. Five minutes later, she heard engines- lots of them. Despite the pain, she forced herself to keep going. 

Ori would never forget the next few hours. She moved slowly through the pitch black woods, unable to outrun her pursuers and knowing that she’d be killed- or worse- if caught. 

Ori felt like a fox during a hunt, with hounds circling her, surrounding her. Although she was nowhere as comfortable as Tara, Oriana was more comfortable in the woods than these men, who were more suited to the open road. Still, there were a few hunters in the bunch- they were dangerous. If it had been afternoon, she’d already be dead. But it’s hard to track one’s prey at night during a new moon.

On several occasions, the sound of voices or footsteps had sent her to take cover in the undergrowth. She wished she could climb a tree, but the damage to her leg, chest, and abdomen made it impossible. Instead, she was forced to lie still, slow her breathing, and pray to God, Tara, Nature, Bacchus… anyone who was listening, really, that they pass her by.

As the sky first began to grow lighter, Oriana heard a running river- one of not insignificant size. She walked along it, moving in the same direction as the fast current. The voices had died down, but it’d be harder to hide here…

Feeling weaker, Oriana finally saw what she was looking for. She used the last of her energy to climb into the small rowboat and cut the rope, allowing the current to take her downstream.

At one point, lulled by the sound of the river, she fell asleep.

*

When Oriana woke up, the slightest shift of movement hit her with so much pain that she nearly lost consciousness again. The sun was in the sky… 8 AM? 9, at most? The boat had snagged on a fallen tree while she slept… at least she was alive. Using one of the paddles, Ori began the long, slow process of pushing herself to shore.

Fuck.

She’d pay a million dollars to be in a hospital right now… instead, she was in the middle of fucking nowhere.

*

It wasn’t until noon that Ori finally came across a car at a fishing hole. Within a few minutes, she’d acquired the keys and the car was moving east.

Her chest hurt worse than ever. Her leg was starting to go numb.

She began praying with a desperation she hadn't felt in a long time.

*

The phone in the Sewing Factory Lofts rang as Tara finished her lunch. Tara’s broken ankle from her most recent Italian adventure had largely healed; though she still used a walking boot, it was beginning to feel normal again. Tara moved quickly toward the phone; she’d spoken to Ori the night before, and she’d expected a follow up call before now confirming the job was done.

“Hello?”  Tara said brightly as she answered.

“Tara.” Oriana’s voice was wrong- hurt.

Tara’s muscles tensed.  “Status?” She found herself asking, in her mother’s voice desperately trying not to let her mind create stories for why Ori sounded in pain.

“I’m hurt. Bad. Don’t know. Feels like I’m dy- doing poorly. Need a doctor. Gunshot in my leg. Broke something in my chest. And my guts are… fucked up.”

Tara took hold of the counter with one hand, tucked the phone between her ear and shoulder and reached for pen and paper.  “Location?”

“I don’t know,” sniffed Ori. “Give me… a second. I’m at a store.” The line went silent for a long while, long enough for Tara to get worried. Then she heard Ori’s voice, reciting an address hours away in Northwest Pennsylvania near Allegheny State Forest.

“You being hunted?  Is it safe to get you to a nearby hospital?  I can be there in just a few hours.” Faster, I hope.

“Was hunted. Did the job. But… I dunno. Haven’t seen them in hours.”

“Without seeing your wounds, I have to assume you need a doctor.”

“Really bad, Tara.”

“Is the store open?”

“Yeah.”

“The clerk inside, they should be able to call you an ambulance.  The cops might have questions when the doctors report gunshot wounds but we’ll deal with that - I won’t have you falling over dead on the side of a road.  Let’s just… handle one crisis at a time.”

“These guys aren’t dumb, Tara. They might have people at hospitals waiting for me.”

“Which is why you let the clerk call you an ambulance, the cops are a lot of things but seldom on the payroll of crooks from another state.  You said the guys you went after were from Ohio? You’re in Pennsylvania now. Let’s rolls those dice. Get patched up, sweetie.”

“I am? Right.”

“Ori?  Listen to me, if you don’t know where you’re at… maybe you should just try to get someone’s attention, stay on the phone with me.  I”ll talk to whoever comes over. Can you see anyone from where you’re at right now?” Tara wished she could take the phone with her and start moving towards Ori.  Sitting here was a helpless feeling.

The line was silent for a while. “Yeah.”

“Call out to them Ori.  You need help. Call them over to you and just give them the phone.  I’ll take care of you, just help me to help you.”

“Hey!” Ori’s voice was too quiet. “Hey!” Louder, but… “HEY! It’s for you…”

Tara heard a muffled voice say “Are you okay, miss?”

“HELLO?!?  PLEASE… SOMEONE?”

“Um. Hello?”

“My friend was attacked by some men on the road.  She needs to be protected, they could be coming after her, please will you call an ambulance?  I … I need to know what hospital. Please help her!” Tara let the panic be heard in her voice, hoping the person’s compassion would be stronger than their fear.  Normal people didn’t always react well to seeing bullet wounds. They weren’t like Soldato. Some just wanted to keep their heads down and stay away from trouble. She prayed this person wasn’t that sort or Oriana might be in very real trouble.

“She.. doesn’t look so good. I’ll take her to Warren General. It’s the closest hospital, just a little bit down the road, and…”

“Listen to me, I mean it, the men after her are very bad news.  You might want to call the cops or at least an ambulance.”

“... okay. If you’re sure. I don’t want any trouble… but I’ll try to help her.”

“Just get her help.  You don’t have to be involved, but please don’t leave her there to die.  She’s a good woman and … please. You may be her only hope. I’m too far away.  Hours from where you are now. Thank you, Mr … ”  

“Flynn. Michael Flynn. Listen, I gotta go handle this. She doesn’t look good.” 

The line clicked off. 

Tara grabbed her coat, slid on her shoes and her gear and was out the door in less than two minutes.  She stopped by Shots on her way out of town, grabbing Brigitte and Eric… just in case.

*

As soon as the car was in park, even before the engine was turned off by Brigitte, Tara was out of the passenger door and moving towards the hospital at the fastest walk possible.  She could feel Eric’s eyes on her even though she’d not looked back at him. He was there, close by, watching her and the world around them. It had been a while since she’d had the feeling of someone watching over her like that - Crupi had been the last time.  It was familiar and comforting, especially in a moment like this where she knew she could only focus on worrying for one person and today that wasn’t herself.

Tara went right to the nurse’s station, pushing a bit of blonde hair behind her ear, she leaned in and locked eyes with the woman in white.  “I’m here to see a patient.”

The nurse smiled up at Tara. “Okay. What’s their name?”

“She might not have been able to give her name when she arrived.”

“Oh. Yes. We do have a young woman in surgery who was unconscious when she arrived.”

 Tara pressed her lips together and nodded, “That’s her.  I was on the phone with her when the good samaritan came up to her and offered to call for help.  Where can we wait to hear from the doctors?”

A man in the reception area glanced up at the words “Good Samaritan”.

“You can have a seat here in reception,” said the nurse. “Perhaps you can give us some information about the patient? What’s your relation to her?”

Tara opened her mouth and then shut it.  She was about to say something that she knew she could not say, something that would make no sense to the woman.  Tears rose in her eyes, “I’m…” She swallowed.  

“We’re her sisters,” said Brigitte. “This is her father.” Eric nodded.

Tara looked at Brigitte with eyes that said the thank you her voice could not manage.  Tara looked back to the nurse and nodded, a tear slid down her cheek and was quickly scrubbed away with the back of her hand.

“Okay,” said the nurse. “Could you all come with me?”

“Of course.”  Tara said quickly, taking up her purse again and following the nurse, reaching out and taking Brigitte’s hand the moment she came in arms reach.

Brigitte gave Tara a squeeze as they headed down the hall and into an office, where another nurse was waiting with a clipboard.

Tara began to answer the nurse’s questions about Oriana as best she could.  

“Patient’s name?”

“Oriana Mastrosimone,” said Brigitte, chiming in before Tara could answer.

“Can you tell us anything about her medical history?”

“She had a very intense childhood.  Some old injuries, nothing too serious but a few months back she had a punctured lung.”  Tara hesitated and then explained that Oriana had a violent relationship and they suspected her boyfriend might be responsible for this as well.  Tara’s hope being that they wouldn’t allow any men in to see Oriana without her family’s consent.

“Do you believe this man is currently a threat?” asked the nurse. “Should we contact the police?”

“I hope not.  He’s in Ohio last we knew, she said on the phone she thought he didn’t know where she was.  We just want to get her well and we’ll take her home so she doesn’t have to be afraid anymore.  Just the same, if someone comes asking for her, I wouldn’t advise letting him in. We’ll stay here, just in case.  She’s likely to be panicked when she comes out of anesthesia - she sometimes has night terrors. The nurses should be told so that no one gets hurt.  If you like, she might react better to a friendly face when she wakes, any one of us would be happy to sit with her once she’s out of surgery.”

“Thank you for making us aware of this. I’ll check with the doctors about anyone being in the room.  Is there anything else that we need to know?”

Tara rubbed the bridge of her nose trying to think if there was anything else vital that would need to be checked or remembered.  Shaking her head slowly she said quietly, “I don’t think so.”  

Tara fished her necklace out of her collar and began to toy with the small ring hanging there and once the nurse was gone she began to pace in the waiting area they were left in muttering a soft, “Thank you” to Brigitte when they were finally alone.  “I didn’t know what to say.” It was only then she realized she hadn’t brought Eric and her sister along just for protection and the extra sets of eyes. She’d brought them because she was scared for Ori and she didn’t want to be alone.

“Let’s go back to the waiting room,” said Brigitte.

“There was a man there watching us very closely,” said Eric. “Sitting in the corner. Heavyset. Beard.”

Tara took a moment before turning to look at the man to which Eric was referring.  Then she looked back to Eric and said, “Might be the guy who brought her in.” Tara’s dark eyes seemed to swallow up the light in the room as she considered the possibilities and then made a decision.  Tara wandered over to him, unafraid and unwilling to sit on her hands when someone might be here to hurt Oriana.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but… did you happen to come in with a young woman a bit ago?”  She asked the large man quietly.

“Yes, I did.” Tara recognized the voice from the phone. 

She softened instantly, her eyes going from harsh daggers to large pools of kindness.  “I don’t know how to thank you.” She admitted, overwhelmed with gratitude. “You may have saved her life.  Flynn was it?”

“Michael Flynn.” He stuck out his hand. “Do you know if she’s okay?”

“She’s in surgery still.  We don’t know much just that … they’re doing everything they can.”  Tara said nodding, as if to reassure herself more than the man in front of her.

Flynn reached down and opened his briefcase and removed a brown paper sack. “You’re Tara, right?”

“Yeah, I’m Tara.”  She said, a little confused.

“I’m supposed to give you this.” He handed her the brown paper bag.

“Thank you.”  Tara said taking the bag from the man.

“I should really go- I’m missing work, but I wanted to do what she asked me to. If I gave you my phone number, would you call me sometime and let me know if she’s okay?”

“Absolutely.  I … I truly am grateful to you.  I swear I’ll repay your kindness somehow.”  She emphatically insisted.

Flynn smiled at her. “No need. It’s what anyone would do.”

Tara took the man’s number, writing it down on the paper bag and promising to call him as soon as they knew something worth sharing.  Only after he left did she look inside the bag. Two guns, two knives, spare ammunition, some sort of biker patch that said “Presidente”, and a bunch of folded up papers that seemed to relate to whoever the owner of the patch was. Inside was a note, written in strange handwriting: “Deliver patch and papers to Konnor, Gomorrah Casino. - O”

Tara grit her teeth.  At least, she told herself, she would know who to go to in order to start the hunt for these bastards if Oriana couldn’t tell her personally who the fuck she was going to kill.  Tara wet her lips, her eyes went dark and cold again as she put the papers back into the bag.

Tara looked up as Michael Flynn returned and cleared his throat.

She looked up at the sound, startled.

“Apologies for interrupting,” said Flynn, “but with everything going on… there was one other message she wanted me to give you. It was so strange that it’d slipped my mind, but she was insistent that I tell you she was sorry. After that, she had more to say, and she was in the middle of it when she passed out…”

Tara swallowed and spoke softly, so no one else could hear, “Did she manage to say anything other than the apology, even a little?”

“She lost consciousness before she could finish. Mid-sentence.” Flynn paused. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s no-  thank you. I appreciate knowing that her thoughts were with us.  Hopefully whatever she had to say she’ll be telling us soon. I’ll… I’ll call you, like I said.”  Tara managed.

“I’ll pray for her.” Flynn said, then gave Tara a reassuring smile and headed out to work.

Tara walked over to Brigitte.  “He’s got the right idea. I’m going to find the chapel in the hospital and say a prayer.  I don’t suppose you’ve had much of a chance to get around in Philly while we were away? Have you ever been to the Gomorrah Casino?”

“I’ll come with you. Eric, wait here in case anyone comes looking for us?” Eric nodded; the ease that he spoke with Brigitte suggested the two of them had gotten to know each other. Brigitte answered, “I’ve seen it, haven’t been inside yet.”

Tara shook her head, “Well, then it’ll be a first for us both.”  She gave Eric a nod, before turning away. Her thoughts deeply torn between pleading with God for Oriana’s life and thoughts of how she would make these men suffer when she found them.

Brigitte slipped her arm through Tara’s and led her sister through the hall, following the signs for the chapel. Compared to the stained glass and stone walls of the Clarian convent, this chapel seemed like it’d been mass produced from an assembly line five minutes ago- but it was still something.

Tara walked to the front of the room, made the sign of the cross and knelt in prayer, the bag of weapons just in front of her.  Tara remained in that position for a long while, until her legs began to feel sore from reduced blood flow. Finally pushing herself up, she took the bag in hand again and fell back into a small wooden bench and stared up at the simple cross upon the wall above the small alter.

Tara sighed and looked at Brigitte.  “I promised her mother I’d take care of her.  I can’t write that woman and tell her that the first thing we did we we got back was Ori running off to make money for my whorehouse, getting herself…”  She choked off the words.

Brigitte patted Tara’s hand. “Orin is tough. She’ll be okay. Look what happened in Naples.”

“Yeah, but how many times can someone walk up to death’s door like that?  Not everyone is Gavin Fucking Byrne.”  

“Well… you and Ori are probably the closest we have to Grandpa right now. If anyone can do it, it’s the two of you.”

She shook her head.  “I don’t think I can handle it if she doesn’t pull through Brigitte. It’s too much.  What the fuck would I even do? You get one or two things in life… I picked Ori. She’s, she’s ... ”  Tara shook her head and then just gave up trying to explain it. She put her chin on her upturned palm, resting her elbow on the arm of the bench, sure that she would never forgive God if he took her now.  Brigitte stayed next to Tara.

Tara eventually left the chapel.  Unable or unwilling to keep still in that place.  Equal parts beholden to her God and still angry with him.  She returned instead to the waiting room and the comforting sensation of Eric watching over her.  There she returned to her pacing, letting her mind wander here and there - plotting. Planning what she would do next whether Ori recovered or not.

Eric was like a gargoyle, stone-faced and watchful. Brigitte tried to stay next to Tara, supporting her sister anyway she could.

They were there for three hours before they heard any word.

*

A nurse came out to the waiting room and escorted Tara, Brigitte, and Eric into the same office they’d been in before. They sat there silently for a while, until a doctor came in. He was still scrubbing his hands clean, but Tara’s detail-devouring eyes noticed the blood on his shoes. Tara sat forward in her chair, on the edge of the seat, breath held. The doctor looked tired as he walked around the desk, laying his hands to rest on the top of the chair.

“Good afternoon. I’m Dr. Nicholls. Oriana is alive, and we are cautiously optimistic... however, she just spent the last four hours in surgery, and the damage was extensive. A severely broken collarbone, broken ribs, and torn abdominal muscles… we were so focused on the damage to the chest and internal bleeding that we didn’t notice the gunshot on her thigh until surgery was already nearly completed. It had already turned red with infection… we removed the bullet and cleaned the wound as best we could.” He frowned. “I think we treated it in time- and she’s fortunate that the gunshot did not break her femur. If it had, we might have had to amputate already. As it stands, we’ll check the wound regularly for signs of progression and act accordingly.” Dr. Nicholls  paused again. “Do you know if Oriana has had any surgery before where anesthesia was used?”

Tara’s hand covered her mouth and she nodded, listening, not speaking right away. “Twice.”  She whispered against her hand after a moment of thought. “The lung. She had it fixed and then, she … got up too quick and they had to go back and fix it again.”

“Did she experience any complications with the use of anesthesia?”

“I don’t think so, but she had disorientation after?  I mean, she wasn’t thinking clearly. I just thought it was because of the shock of all the things that happened, but maybe it was the drugs?  I know she doesn’t handle alcohol very well. She’s drunk very quickly if she does try to drink, even wine.”

Dr. Nicholls nodded slowly. “Do you know if it was the left or right lung that was punctured previously?”

“The right.”  She said, clearing her throat.  

“One of her ribs re-punctured that lung, then. We’ve repaired the internal damage as best we can. At this time, we’re keeping her sedated so the damage can heal without re-aggravation.”

Tara’s hand flexed into a fist.  Her knuckles went white with how hard it clenched.  “Do whatever you have to Doctor. Whatever she needs… anything at all.  Thank you for all that you’ve done so far. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.”  Her words were sincere, but pain and anger lay just on the edges of her tone.

The doctor nodded. “At this point, everything depends on her response. Fortunately for her, her physical health seems largely excellent… but the damage was extensive, as I said. She’s not out of the woods, yet. I think the next 12 hours will clarify things.”

“When can we see her?” Tara asked.

“At this point, I’m not sure.”

Tara nodded.  “Okay.” Her dark eyes went back to stewing on unspoken thoughts then.  She could wait to see Ori. She could do that.

“Do you have any other questions I can answer for you?”

“No.  Thank you, Doctor.”  Tara replied standing up and making her way to the door, returning to the waiting room where she resumed her pacing - more aggressive than before, like a tiger slowly going mad in a very small cage.  Her hand darting back and forth from rubbing the ring on the chain to pushing hair out of her face and rubbing the bridge of her nose. Her nostrils flaring, a scowl appearing on her lips without warning as if some hateful thought had flittered out of the nothing in her mind and had to be pushed back down before that empty look could return again.

After about ten minutes of this Tara finally turned to her sister and spoke.  “I’ll see her, but then I have to go back to Philly. Will you stay, so she doesn’t wake up alone?”

“I think she’d want you here, Tara. Any revenge can wait a day,” said Brigitte in a quiet voice. ‘If they decide they need to amputate her leg tonight… she’ll need you.”

“Do you know,”  Tears filled Tara’s eyes, “What that would do to her?”  She growled. 

 “I know, it’s why she’ll need you.”  Brigitte insisted gently.

Tara sniffled.  “I was there when they told Dad he would never walk again… I can still hear his anguished cries as clearly as if they just happened.”  She winced and looked away from her sister.

“Then you know how much-”

“No!”  Tara snapped angrily at Brigitte.  “What I know is that nothing is going to fix her if it comes to that!  There is one thing in this world she thinks she’s good for.  Dad at least had business and his family and it still wasn’t enough, Brigitte!  It broke him...”  He whisper seething with immeasurable rage,  “I painted a wall with that man’s brains for failing to protect him - I will do no less for the woman I love.”

Brigitte’s blue eyes held Tara, but she said nothing.

“I need some air.”  Tara said turning on her heels and storming out of the hospital.

Eric put a hand on Brigitte’s shoulder.  

“My birth mother,”  She whispered, “She paralyzed our father, Billy.  He spent the last two years of his life in a wheelchair - this mountain of a man, the strongest person I ever knew.”

“I’m sorry.”  Eric whispered.

“Tara forced my father’s bodyguard to kill her.  Then she killed him for failing my father.” Brigitte pushed a stray curl from her face.  

“She’s just scared.  You know she doesn’t blame you, right?”

Brigitte nodded.  “She doesn’t have to.”

“You can’t hold yourself responsible for your mother’s actions.”

Brigitte shook her head, “No, but the weapon she used was something of mine that I left behind … so, in a way.”

“She would have found something else.”  Eric stated the obvious.

“Maybe.”  Brigitte looked at Eric and tried to find her smile.  “It’s what I tell myself to get through.”

Eric nodded and lead Brigitte over to a chair.

“She’s in no condition to hunt these guys down, whoever they are.”  Brigitte observed.

“Agreed, but the Luciano temper, even your Grandmother feared it.”  Eric shook his head. “Let’s just agree you’re not likely to talk her down.  There’s too much blood of the Dragon in that one. I can see it in her eyes.”

“Tara and Gavin were always the most gentle of us.”  Brigitte spoke and as she did her mind wandered to a part of her life so different than the one she lived now, that it almost felt like it had happened to someone else.  “Gavin was the sort though who’d cry for wounded and dead animal. Tara, well, she had a different way of dealing with things like that.”

***

Thirteen Years Earlier

“Come on, slowpoke!”  Tara, not yet showing signs of the woman she would become, leaped over a fallen tree with all the grace of a deer.  The bow on her shoulder moving with her as if a part of her body.

Brigitte, a girl in her young teens cast eyes over her shoulder sympathetically at her brother who was slowly bringing up the rear.  

“You said it’s past the ridge, right?”  Tara called out, standing atop a big rock trying to see further ahead.

“Yeah, it’s maybe another twenty minutes south.”

“That’s like a mile away.”  Gav lumbered up to his sisters, clearly tired from the walk so far.  “I’m starving, maybe we should stop here for lunch?”

Tara chuckled, “You’re always starving.  I swear you eat more than Dad.”  

“Mom says I’m a growing boy, that’s why.”  Gav flexed a little.  

Brigitte rolled her eyes and chuckled, “Well, come on growing boy, keep pace.”  With that, the blonde went down the hillside slowly moving towards the river.

“Do you suppose the hunters will be there?”  Tara asked.

“No.  They went back last week.”

“How do you know that?”  Gav asked coming down the hill at a slightly quicker pace thanks to gravity.

Brigitte glanced at Tara who was looking at her with the same question in her eyes.  Brigitte felt the heat rising in her cheeks, “I just do.”

“What’s in this cabin you want to show us so bad anyway?”  Gavin asked reaching the bottom of the hill.

“All sorts of stuff,”  Brigitte said weaving around some birch trees.  “A record player for one.”

“Woah.  You mean there’s music?”  Tara said with a smile.

“Oh, sure!  Swing music, some jazz, we can hang out there and listen to it.  It’ll be the bee’s knees. It’s really-”

“Do you hear that?”  Gavin said suddenly stopping.  

The two girls paused.  Hearing nothing they both seemed prepared to say something and then, a sound split the peace between the three. Brigitte’s blood ran cold as she was sure she had heard the sound of a screaming woman.

Tara was at a run before either of the other two knew what was happening, moving quickly towards the sound.  A half-a-heartbeat later Brigitte and Gavin followed, crashing through the woods behind Tara until they came to some thick brush in which they could see movement.

“It’s a fox.” Tara gasped.  

“No way.”  Gav got down low and blinked in disbelief.  “It is. Why’s it doing that?”

Beside him, Tara was pulling out an arrow from her quiver.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s injured, Gav.”  she said flatly as if this were the simplest thing in the world to understand.  “You can hear it’s in pain. I’m going to put it out of its misery.”

“Tara!  No!” Gavin put himself in front of his sister, blocking her sight of the vixen.  

“Look at the blood on the leaves at your feet.  A coyote probably got it.” Tara shrugged.  

“You don’t know that it’s going to die.”

“That is a lot of blood,” Brigitte remarked looking around at the ground, her voice interrupted by the whimpers and chirps of the creature behind Gavin.

“We could help it.”  Gavin insisted.

“It’s a wild animal Gavin, a predator.  You don’t just bring home things like that, it’ll rip your face off as soon as let you help it.”

“I can’t let you kill it.”  He insisted.

“You’re not doing it any favors.  It’s going to suffer and die horribly.  Other animals will probably come and eat it.  At least my arrow will be quick and clean. It’s not like it’ll even know what’s happening.”

“It’s a living creature!”  Gavin asserted. “You’re gonna just murder it?”

“It’s not murder.  Even if it isn’t dying, after taking a wound like that, it’ll never be the same.  It’s better off dead. Just let me get a clean shot on it, it’s suffering will be over fast.  I promise.”

Gavin moved to take the bow from Tara, Brigitte grabbed Gavin - afraid her brother might be hurt.  In the instant Brigitte had him knocked away, Tara smoothly pulled up her bow and took aim, firing her arrow into the dying creature - ending its life.

“Why?!?”  Gavin gaped at Tara and scowled at Brigitte for her part in it.  She could feel her brother’s pain and his sense of betrayal at her involvement.  Gavin tore away from Brigitte and started running off into the woods, headed back north.  

Brigitte turned to Tara then.  Tara shook her head and stated simply, “It was for the best.  It was a kind thing to do.  Sometimes things are just too broken.”

Brigitte stared at Tara, but didn’t say a word.

“Oh come on … it’s just a fox.”  Tara got down on her hands and knees and went into the bush to retrieve her arrow.

Brigitte sighed and chased after her little brother Gavin.

***

8 PM

Dr. Nicholls, looking exhausted, was waiting in his office when the nurse fetched Tara, Brigitte, and Eric. This time, he was seated in his chair, and he leaned forward and laced his hands when the three family members sat across from him. He took a deep breath.

Tara tensed in anticipation of what the news the Doctor might have, but she held her tongue and waited.  She’d hardly spoken a word all day, not since her blow up with Brigitte and then right before dozing off in the chair for a bit.  She was glad she let herself get those few minutes of rest, she knew they would help her on the drive home to Philly later tonight.

“Oriana is alive, but she has not yet regained consciousness, which we are concerned about.”

Tara blinked, “Yes.  That happened before too.  She was much longer in waking than the surgeon was comfortable with.”

“And did she wake up naturally? Or did they need to forcibly attempt to wake her?”

Tara shook her head, “I sat with her and eventually she came round.  I talked to her and I don’t know how long but… eventually she just woke on her own.  I do remember talking with the surgeon and nurse though, they said it was a reason to be worried, but they never got to a point where they thought they had to, I guess.  I can provide you with the name of her surgeon, if it would be helpful to you, but he’s Italian. I don’t know how well he speaks English.”

“At this point, I don’t know if it would be much help. It’s not too alarming- yet. But if it continues for another couple hours, I’ll be more concerned. I also…” Dr. Nicholls frowned. “... we need to have a discussion about her leg.”

“Go on…”  Tara whispered.  Brigitte took Tara’s hand, though Tara did not react to the action, Brigitte gave her a gentle squeeze.

“The infection has spread, and time is a factor. Since she’s not conscious and you’re her closest family,” Nicholls was looking mostly at Eric, “we’re approaching the time when a decision might need to be made on Oriana’s behalf.

Tara didn’t say a word, but her head shook slowly ‘no.’

“We’ll discuss it.”  Brigitte said. “How long do we have before a decision has to be made?”

“If you decide to amputate, sooner would be better. We have three options. The first would be amputation; this would guarantee the infection would not spread, but it would also, of course, necessitate removing her leg at the hip. The second option would be to continue to treat her with antibiotic medication and hope that her body rallies to fight off the infection. The third… the third would involve re-opening the wound, cutting away the wound and reapplying a new round of antibiotic salves and ointments.”

Brigitte nodded.  Tara stared blankly forward, a tear falling out of the corner of her eye and racing down her cheek unnoticed.

“I’ll give you some time to talk with your daughters,” said Nicholls as Eric nodded. “But I should mention that the internal damage has seen no complications. She’ll have a long recovery, of course, but assuming she revives from the anesthesia and the infection is handled, the long term outlook is positive.”

“Thank you,”  Brigitte said to the doctor, standing up and helping Tara to stand too.  The blonde only gave a glance to her ‘father’ before the three of them made their way back out of the office and into the waiting room once more.

Tara walked numbly over and sat down into a chair.

“What would she want, Tara?” asked Eric.

Without hesitation, Tara spoke quietly, “She’d rather die than lose her leg.”

“Okay,” said Brigitte. “Than option three, then? At least it seems like they’re doing something more than just hoping.”

“You’re talking about cutting away at her like she’s…”  Tara shook her head and shut her eyes tight, trying not to imagine the image of some doctor slicing away bits of Ori’s perfect body.  “She’d never be the same and she’d blame me for it. Dad would tell us to have faith… but...”

“So just wait and see, then?” asked Brigitte.

“I’m scared.”  Tara muttered quietly.

Brigitte moved to Tara and half-hugged her. “I know. It’s… it’ll be okay.”

“That’s the thing,”  She shook her head, “It doesn’t have to be.  I might not be. Sometimes it’s not okay. People die, Brigitte.  People die all the time, good people, people who shouldn’t die and they leave orphans and widows behind.  We’ve seen it too many times to count. This family has lost so much… why should I be different?”

Tara took a ragged breath, “I … I can’t let them cut her.”  Tara buried her face into Brigitte’s side and wept, knowing that she might well be deciding to let Oriana die a long, painful death. Brigitte couldn’t do anything except hold her sister.

*

11:19 PM

Eric, Brigitte, and Tara were dozing in the waiting room when the nurse appeared and escorted them again to the office. They were greeted by a smiling, Nicholls, who seemed asleep on his feet.

“She’s awake- and the infection is receding,” he said, when they were barely inside the door. 

Tara made the sign of the cross, and seemed to collapse upon herself. Eric reached out with a steadying hand to her shoulder.

“She’ll have a long recovery ahead of her, of course. But we’re through the woods. She’s in pain, and she’ll need to rest for several weeks until she starts feeling normal again. And you must ensure she continues to take her medication. We’ll keep her overnight for observation, but assuming there’s no further issues, we can discharge her in the morning, assuming she has somewhere to go where can be rest and be cared for?”

“Yes.”  Tara said.  “I’ll be taking care of her.”

Brigitte looked at Tara and smiled, relief painted on her face.

“Good. You can see her in a moment. I… it seems horrible to discuss, and I hope you know that this is far from the most important thing, but we do need to talk about medical expenses. It took quite a lot of labor and medicine to save her. We do have a payment plan that can make it easier for families over a longer term.”

“Whatever the cost, it’ll be paid.  I assure you.” Tara said without hesitation.  “Just… well, get us a bill.” She forced a smile.  “Oriana’s health is worth any price, right now I just want to see her.”

Four minutes later, Tara walked through the door of Oriana’s room. Ori was laying back on the bed. Her hair was short and brown, and the extent of the damage was clear. Her left arm was in a shoulder sling, and she had bandages wrapped around her torso so extensively that they doubled as a shirt. Her left thigh, at least what was visible under the blanket, seemed heavily bandaged as well.

Tara looked at her fondly, even though the emotions and exhaustion on her face was plain.  The relief of knowing she would live was the overwhelming thought in her mind, the idea of revenge only a distant nagging thought.  

“Hey Tiger.” Oriana’s voice sounded like it was coming from far away- a mix of drunkenness and exhaustion. The aftereffects of the anesthesia and the presence of pain medication was clear. “Hey Brigitte. Hey E.”

Tara crossed the room to her bedside and leaned over to kiss Ori’s forehead gently.  “I’m so glad to see you.” she whispered. “I’m going to stay right here with you all night while you rest.  We’ll go home tomorrow.”  

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this.”

“Agreed.  You get a pass this time.  I’ll take care of you, but if you make me come sit in a hospital like this again I’m going to be very upset with you.  You know… my grandfather told my grandma she wasn’t allowed to be shot anymore. That worked really well for them until the end so… you’re not allowed to get shot anymore, Ori.  Do you understand me?”

“I understand. No more shot.”

“Good.”  She kissed Ori’s head again.  

“It wasn’t my fault. Bad luck. Crashed a motorcycle. Then they shot me. Then I hid in the woods and went on a river.”

Tara sighed. “I hate those things… who are they, by the way?”

“Tribbles. No. The Tribe. 

“Well, I got your bag of goodies.”  She said pushing some of Ori’s hair from her face.  “It’s over now. You can rest and know it’s handled.  We’ll get you all better and you’ll be back up and causing chaos again before you know it.”

“Did you say we can go back tomorrow? Wait, is it the end of the month yet? The guy who hired me said I’d get a bonus for doing it fast, so that’s-”

“Ori.”  Tara cut in.  “It doesn’t matter.  All that matters now is your health.  We’ll settle up with this guy later. For now, just try to take it easy.”

“Okay. Guess it’s too late to go back now anyways. Keep that stuff safe for me. Worth a quarter million, plus the bonus if we’re in time.”