A/N: I know some of you are happy and some of you are disappointed with chapter 19...but regardless, thank you for reading and commenting! This is a purposely short chapter. xo
Mac dropped Devon to the floor. Devon wrapped his hands over the bleeding laceration in his neck, already feeling lightheaded from the blood loss. Mac wiped the blood from the knife across his pants leg as Walter dropped to the floor beside his bleeding son.
"Macerio! Maldita sea! Hacer algo! Maldito salvar a tu hermano!" Walter panicked, looking up into Mac's cold blue eyes.
"I don't know what the fuck you said, but if you're askin' me to do anythin' to help him, you're wastin' your last breath as a free man," Mac replied callously.
"I'll kill you if he dies, Mac! I'll fuckin' kill you!"
"I don't care anymore," Mac whispered, turning to look at Ansley on the bed.
"Papi?" she languidly murmured, "What's hap-happening? I don't feel good."
Mac walked to her side, laying down with her for just a moment and kissing her feverish cheek, "This hell you're in...it'll be over with soon, Cupcake." He slowly sat back up on the side of the bed as blue flashing lights transpired through the gaps in the curtains, placing his hand to her cheek one more time.
"Papi!" Ansley's voice turned panic stricken, her eyes growing wide.
The gun shot went through Mac's left shoulder, the bullet lodging in the wall above the headboard. Mac slid from the bed onto the floor, not moving. Walter did not have time to drop the gun before the uniformed men broke the door down, immediately restraining him. He fought hard, cursing them in Spanish as they drug him outside.
"Ansley, are you okay?" a young, blonde officer asked, undoing the rope from around her wrists, and then releasing her ankles. "We're here to help you, okay?"
"Help him! Help Mac!" Ansley cried, trying to climb off the bed and into the floor with the lifeless body.
Another officer, older and overweight with a gray mustache, pulled out his CB, "Yeah, we need a bus! Got one victim with a puncture wound to neck, must be in his late twenties. White male. Another white male, late thirties, gunshot wound to upper left thorax."
"I need you to calm down, an ambulance is on it's way," the blonde officer said, holding her up in his arms and wrapping a blanket around her bare upper body. "You're one of the lucky ones," he said coolly, sitting beside her, taking her hands and examining her rope burns and track marks.
The older officer went to the bathroom door, shaking the locked handle, "Is someone in here? We're here to help!"
Reggie opened the door, the officer's face washed over with grave concern, "Miss, are you okay?" He immediately noticed her skeletal figure, the rope burns, and track marks. "Looks like two counts of kidnapping," he turned and looked at his blonde accomplice.
"Rape, torture," the blonde officer added, turning Ansley's wrists in his hands, taking in all of her blemishes.
"C'mon, hon. Let's get you to the station," the older man wrapped an arm around Regina's thin shoulder. "You're safe now."
"Safe..." Reggie muttered, almost inaudible, as she looked down at her bleeding brother with blatant contempt.