DUTCH

Inspired by true events.

Bang.

Something punches through my gut. Feels like a red-hot poker shoved through my insides, twisting, searing. My breath catches, legs turning to rubber. My fingers grope for the edge of the table, but they find nothing solid.

The floor tilts. My heartbeat stutters, loud in my ears.

Thick, dark, wet—my blood spills out across my stomach, soaking through my shirt.

Chairs scrape against the floor, someone shouts, but it’s all distant, muffled beneath the roar of my pulse.

I see Bug Workman, ice in his veins, gun steady in his grip. Mendy Weiss beside him, his pistol smoking.

It was them.

Of course it was them.

I shoulda seen it coming.