Dead end.
Turning back around I stop short as Salvatore enters the isle, his gun raised, blocking my escape.
Salvatore’s smile is cold. “This is the end of the line for you, Farfalla.” His gun points directly at my chest. “The queen has finally been checkmated.”
Panic flares through me, but I won’t give him the satisfaction. “You talk too much for someone who’s about to pull the trigger. And to think I thought of you as family.”
He takes a slow step forward. “Like I said before, it’s nothing personal, it’s survival of the fittest. I want you to feel this. To know that your father’s sins are the reason you’re dying. You never mattered outside his shadow.”
My throat tightens, but I hold his gaze. “If that’s true, then why did you go to such great lengths to try to eliminate me.”
That makes him pause, just for a second but his finger curls on the trigger.
“Don’t you dare touch her!” Dominic’s voice roars from somewhere above.
Salvatore’s eyes flick upward, as Dominic jumps from the catwalk.
Dominic’s large frame covers me as he slams into me with his full weight, knocking the air from my lungs as we crash to the floor.
The deafening crack of a gunshot rings out at the same time.
Hot sticky wetness spreads against my side.
Crimson droplets decorate the dusty floor.
I’ve been hit!
But I don’t feel any pain.
It’s not until I become aware of Dominic’s body going limp over me that I realize it’s him.
“Dominic!” I scream. I crawl out from under him and shove him onto his back so he’s slumped against the wall.
Dark red coats his shirt.
“I’m okay,” he groans. His jaw is clenched and his eyes are fierce despite the pain.
His gun lies just inches from my hand. I snatch it up, stumbling to my feet.
I stand in front of Dominic, lock my arms, and aim at Salvatore.
“You took my father,” My voice trembles with rage. “You’re not taking him, too.”
He laughs. “My dear, aren’t you forgetting that you’re incapable of harming people who you consider family? That’s why it took so long for you to figure out who was behind this.”
I stiffen at his words, but my finger tightens on the trigger.
We stare down each other, guns raised.
“Yes, you’re right,” I growl. “I don’t want to hurt people who I considered family, but you’re not family anymore.”
I squeeze the trigger at the same time as him.
Gunfire explodes in the air. The sharp crack echoes off the steel walls.
I duck behind a crate. Splinters bite into my hand as metal pings above my head. My pulse thunders in my ears.
Silence fills the space.
