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I look back, seeing his attention pointed up the street. I turn to see he’s looking at a van. Tires start screeching, and Brad starts running after it, firing at the wheels. He takes the back one out, sending it into the curb. It bounces off and starts rocking, and I flinch as I watch it go up on two wheels. “It’s going,” I whisper, the van tilting precariously, leaning, until it eventually drops onto its side with a deafening crash.
“No!” Rose yells, falling to her arse as Anya bolts.
Bang!
I raise my arm over my head, flinching, the whole scene too much for my brain to process. My wife, armed, Anya making a run for it, Brad heading for the van.
“Jesus Christ,” James says, obviously experiencing the same level of what the hell is happening? as I am.
I go straight to Rose and disarm her.
“What are you doing?” she screams, getting up in my face.
“Taking control of this fucking madness.” I take her elbow and squeeze, fighting her fighting me, as James catches Anya, immobilizing her with an arm up her back, and Brad drags out a man from the driver’s seat of the van.
“Get the cars inside,” I yell. “And someone call the fucking gate company to repair them.” Again.
Tank walks through the debris of splintered and broken wood, his gun poised, his eyes crazy. So crazy, even I’m wary. “You stupid woman,” he yells, furious, going in on Rose.
“What’s going on, Tank?” I ask, breathless.
“I don’t fucking know,” he shouts. “But I do fucking know I gave her clear instructions to stay fucking put and she fucking didn’t!”
I swing an incensed look onto Rose. “What the fuck is going on?”
“Anya,” she says, her breathing labored. “Her name is Anya Dimitri.”
I feel like someone just pressed high voltage into my body. “What?”
“What?” Brad gasps.
Something in Rose shifts, adrenaline making way for emotion now. “Pearl,” she whispers, looking back toward the house.
Brad steps closer, dragging the man with him. “Rose?” he says, slowly, warily. “What about Pearl?”
“Anya ran her down.”
Brad’s gun hits the floor. “No.” He stands motionless for far too long, forcing Ringo to dive in and claim the man before he gets away. “No!” He sprints through the destroyed gates up the long driveway toward the house, and I follow, seeing Fury and Beau huddled around something. “God, no,” I breathe.
“Pearl!” Brad breaks through them and nearly coughs his heart up when he sees her on the ground.
Unmoving.
I cover my mouth with my hand as Brad slowly lowers to his knees next to her, taking her in. Pale. So fucking pale.
Then I see the pool of blood.
Fuck.
The dogs are sitting nearby, whimpering, their paws treading the ground as they watch Brad huddle round Pearl’s broken body. “Pearl?” he begs. “Pearl, wake up.” He looks up when he hears the crunching of shoes on the stones. His eyes are glazed. His face everything I don’t know on Brad. Agony. “Do something,” he whispers when Doc comes rushing out of the house. “Please, Doc, you have to do something.”
My heart, which only ever usually softens for my wife or kids, tears in two.
57
ROSE
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