“Were those gunshots?” Marcus asks.
In an instant, all my rage disappears, replaced with blood-chilling terror.
Everyone shares a look, and our mutual panic is evident. But with that single glance, I know we’re all on the same page. Ben, Marcus, and I immediately rush toward the house, heading straight for the front door, while Eric stays by the truck, pulling his phone out to call the police. It’s not the brightest idea, and the alcohol is likely emboldening me, but I refuse to leave Luke’s safety up to chance. If someone’s shooting, there’s no time to wait.
Stopping at the front door, I peer inside through the little glass side panel, but I can’t see anything from this angle. I try the handle, and thankfully, the door’s unlocked. Swinging it open slowly and quietly, I take a cautious step in. Without knowing what we’re walking into, I want to be careful not to make too much noise. The three of us are unarmed.
Once we’re inside, I listen carefully, trying to gauge where everyone might be. Suddenly, I hear Luke’s voice ring out to the right, as clear and sharp as ever.
“Just put the gun down,please,” he says, his voice shockingly calm. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
A woman is crying, wailing like she’s in pain. Luke’s mother, I can only imagine. And another voice answers—it’s gruff and deep. That has to be Pete.
“It’s too late for that now, boy,” he growls. “She’s my wife.My wife!”
With his shout, glass shatters—like something was thrown against a wall—and the woman screams, begging for her life.
My heart is pounding, adrenaline pumping through my veins. I’ve never been inside Luke’s house before—I don’t know the layout, but I can see two doors to my right that look like they might lead to the conflict. I can see a kitchen through the closest one. With a quick hand gesture, I motion for Ben and Marcus to head in that direction while I go for the other door across the way, and we split up to cover more ground.
My door leads to a dining room, empty, but completely trashed. It looks like this is where the conflict began, at dinner. I notice there are only two place settings, the plates broken on the table, and bits of food are everywhere. Chairs are toppled over, and the tablecloth has a deep red stain that almost resembles wine mixed with blood. And the more I look, the worse it gets. There’s a trail of blood leading through another door to the kitchen, like someone was dragged across the floor.Oh, god.
I can hear voices right beyond the threshold. Carefully, I edge my way up to the door and peer around the corner. From this angle, I’m directly to the right of a heavyset man with a balding head and a scraggly beard.Pete. He’s positioned in such a way that he can’t see me without turning his head around, though he’s haphazardly waving a gun around the room.
A very petite, blonde-haired woman is huddling in the corner across the way—Luke’s mother. She’s bleeding profusely from a cut on her cheek that looks like it was made with a slash of a blade, and she’s nursing a broken arm to her chest, her hand and leg also bleeding extensively. There’s a bullet hole in the wall next to her—only two inches away from her head.
And then there’sLuke—stupid, foolhardy, protective Luke—standing directly in front of her like a human shield. I could throttle him, as well as kiss him, for his bravery. At the very least, he doesn’t look hurt. His injuries are old and healing, which tells me he wasn’t involved in this scuffle until the last minute. Maybe he only came out to investigate after he heard the gunshots.
“Pete,” Luke says, holding his hands out in a sign of deference. They’re shaking, the only sign that he’s terrified, but he keeps his voice calm and even. “Think about this for a minute. If you kill her, it won’t fix anything. It’ll only make more trouble for you.”
“This isyourfault,” Pete shouts, clearly unhinged. “None of this would have happened if you kept your nose out of our business. You got into her head.”
He waves the gun around recklessly with emphasis to his words, and I can see that he’s a little unsteady on his feet. Drunk. Drunker than I am by a mile. Luke takes a cautious step back, flinching as his eyes track the gun’s movements, and he further blocks his mom at his back.
“Get out of the way, you good-for-nothing cocksucker,” Pete growls. “You can’t save her from what’s coming for her. Dirty, lyingwench.Thinks she can leave me?”
“Just let us go,” Luke begs. “No one’ll ever have to know about this. We won’t press charges. You can live your life, and we’ll live ours. You don’t need to do this.”
“I said,get out of the way!” Pete shouts, and he fires the gun.
The sound is explosive in the tiny space and so unexpected that I can’t help but jump from the shock. My ears are ringing, but I can still hear the way Luke’s mom screams in terror. When my eyes frantically scan the kitchen, I see Luke holding his left arm, blood dripping down to the ground.He’s been hit. And yet, he’s still standing like a fortress in front of his mother. His face is twisted in a mask of pain, but there’s a fierce determination behind it not to let it stop him.
Rage twists my guts, and my first instinct is to rush out and tackle Pete to the ground like a freight train. I almost make the move—but then Pete turns his head to the side slightly, and I’m forced to move back before he sees me. I’ll only have one shot at this. If I make a single mistake, it’ll have dire consequences. I don’t know how many bullets Pete has left in his gun.
When I peek around the corner again, I find that while Pete didn’t see me, Luke definitely did. His gaze flits to me in the doorway, and his eyes widen with an unmistakable glimmer of hope shrouded in new terror. He must have forgotten that I was supposed to be coming over in all of this mess.
“It’s liberal trash like you. That’s what’s wrong with this country,” Pete slurs, taking an unsteady step forward. He doesn’tseem to notice how Luke isn’t looking at him anymore, too drunk to pay attention. “You want to change the way things are when it was working just fine the way it was. But no. You’re all too sensitive with your political correctness and wokeness, fucking DEIbullshit. A bunch of snowflakes. And you think you have the right to come in here and poison my wife against me with your lies?”
“Pete,please,” Luke’s mother begs. “I’ll stay. I’ll make it better. I’ll fix everything. You don’t have to worry. I can do whatever you want. I’m sorry!” I watch as Luke’s expression hardens with every plea out of his mother’s mouth, his opinion of it plain.
Pete ignores her entirely, staring only at Luke. His eyes hold a deadly promise. “I think it’s high time I take out the trash,” he says
“No, Pete,” she wails with new urgency. “Please, please,please!”
Everything happens very quickly after that. Pete raises his gun again with intention, aiming it directly at Luke’s head, his finger on the trigger. Luke’s mother lets out a blood-curdling scream as she pushes her way out from behind her son’s back, trying to block him with her body, but she’s only about 5’5”, so she doesn’t make a very good shield. Now, I have no choice but to make my move. I charge out into the room like a linebacker rushing to sack the quarterback, putting all my weight behind my momentum, just as I hear Luke shout, “Ethan, no!”
The next few seconds feel like they take a thousand years to play out. Pete spots me, turning his body slightly with surprise as I charge at him. Right as I make contact, pushing him off balance, he squeezes the trigger, and the shot rings out in the small room. He wasn’t prepared to guard against such a tackling blow, and his own weight works against him as gravity hauls him to the ground. He gapes at me in flabbergasted confusion as we fall before he knocks his head against the tile, and thegun goes flying from his hand. From the corner of my eye, I can see that Luke also goes down. His body recoils slightly before he crumples to the floor.
No!My heart cries just as his mother screams his name, collapsing at his side.
