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“I saw the bruises you left on her.” My stomach tightened at the words. Those were beautiful bruises, though. They were a work of art we’d created together. What he’d done to her…it was senseless. It was cruel. It was abuse. What I’d done… “She’s just going from the kettle to the fire.”
I whirled around, not wanting to hear another word. The rage I thought I’d gotten under control flared back up with a vengeance. Winnie looked at me like she’d seen a ghost, her face pale and hands still shaky.
“Are you okay?” I asked, but I knew the answer. Blood smeared across her cheek as I shoved her hair out of the way. I needed to see her face, her eyes. I needed to know she was alright.
But before she could answer, the sound of metal sliding against metal—a click that told me a gun was cocked—sounded behind me. Reaching for the gun at the back of my jeans, panic surged through me when I didn’t feel it. Frantically, I scanned the floor of the small kitchen, seeing only streaks of red smeared across it.
Turning, I found Connor pointing my gun at me, a wicked, triumphant grin on his face. “Get over here,” he said to Winnie, jerking the gun slightly. I wanted to reach for her, to pull her behind me. I wanted to protect her, but I knew if I moved, he’d shoot.
“Put the gun down,” I said, holding my hands up. I watched Winnie slowly move across the room, her eyes massive as she watched him.
“Connor.” Hesitantly, she reached for him. He jerked away, but everything after that happened in slow motion, but also too quickly to react.
He lifted his hand, the gun aimed at the ceiling. In one swift, hard motion, he brought it down, pistol-whipping her across the face. She screamed and lifted her hands to her head, covering the knot already forming on her forehead.
“Don’t—” The word left me too late, and she fell to the ground, doubled over as she tried to breathe through the pain. I was too focused on her to realize the gun was in my face again.
A new surge of adrenaline shot through me, and my gaze slowly shifted back to him. He looked too triumphant, like he’d already won. But he hadn’t. He never would.
“I told you she’d come to me,” he mocked. “She might slut around and open her legs for anyone, but it’ll always be me who warms her bed. Who she chooses.” His gaze slid to her, still on the floor, clutching her face. “Isn’t that right? You’re just a dumb bitch who can’t tell up from down without a man to guide her?”
Her head lifted, and the spark I saw in her eyes wasn’t one of a battered and broken woman. No, it was full of fury and disgust. Her deep, burning hatred shone through for just a moment, then her mask slipped back into place.
“Please, Connor,” she whimpered, her voice so small and pathetic that I didn’t know if I could believe it. After what I just saw, it wasn’t…
It wasn’t real.
“Don’t hurt him,” she continued, but Connor ignored her, his gaze fixated on me.
“Get out of my house,” he said, keeping his voice level. “Get out of my town.”
I stayed totally still, not moving an inch. We stared at each other, and I could see his anger building inside him. “I’m not leaving without Winnie,” I muttered, not risking a glance at her.
He took a step forward, his heavy work boots thudding on the floor. The skin-warmed barrel pressed against the center of my forehead, and I froze.
It was true what they said about your life flashing before your eyes. That every moment, good and bad, played out before you like a moving picture, one moment morphing into the next.
His finger, still slick with blood, slid onto the trigger. I didn’t close my eyes. I didn’t hold my breath.
I stared back at him.
I wanted him to see the life fade from me. I wanted to haunt him forever. I wanted him to remember this moment when his life flashed before his eyes. I wanted him to know that when he died and his soul faded wherever souls go, that I would be there waiting.
Something hot and wet splattered across my face, a strangled sound leaving Connor as his eyes widened. It took me a moment to realize the blade of a knife was sticking out of his throat, and as he crumpled to the ground, Winnie stood behind him. She stared down at what she’d done, at the mess she’d made. At the life she’d taken.
The gun fell from his hand, and I stooped to grab it before moving to her. She was in shock—I knew that. She did nothing but stare down at him like she couldn’t believe it.
“Winona?” I whispered, but she didn’t reply. She didn’t say a word.
I looked at his body, the blood seeping from the open wound, and couldn’t help the flood of warmth that spread throughout my chest. Not because he was dead. Not because he’d never hurt her again.
But because she’d just killed him. She got rid of the last person in the world who mattered to her—she had no one left but me.
I tried to hide my smile as I glanced down at her, her shaky hands stained with her brother’s blood. Maybe it was wrong of me to feel like this, to be happy that all obstacles were out of our way now, but I didn’t care.
“He’s my brother,” she said blankly. “I loved him.”
I swallowed the words I wanted to scream at her. That what she felt for him wasn’t love. It was obligation. Love didn’t hurt like this.
