“Helena!”
Mr. Ramsay was laughing silently. Eyes wide and manic. He looked positively thrilled with himself, as if this was his plan all along. And all the while, those footsteps came closer.
Oh no, what do I do? What can I do?
Helena thought of crying out and warning Sebastian. Better that she do that, even if it meant being shot.
But what would be the point? Sebastian still might not avoid a second bullet.
She started to panic. She looked around the room for an answer. And then, with nothing for it, she acted in the only way she could think.
Even if it was perhaps not the smartest thing to do.
“Sebastian!” she cried as she leapt with all the force she could muster across the bed. “Don’t come in—owe!” She flew off the bed, over its end, and crashed onto the floor.
“Wh—” Mr. Ramsay sputtered, following her with the pistol and pulling the trigger.
Helena heard the pistol go off with a loud bang, just as she heard the bullet take a chunk out of the wall right over her head. But she was too dazed to consider the sheer madness of what she had just done.
On the floor by the end of the bed, she turned over to see Sebastian burst into the room.
He wasted no time.
Mr. Ramsay, caught off guard, attempted to spin back and aim the pistol at him. And Sebastian, seeing him do this, lunged forward and grabbed his wrist. The pistol was aimed upwards. Another shot was fired, Helena screamed, and the two men wrestled.
Sebastian was larger than Mr. Ramsay. He was stronger. And Helena could see how angry he was. How damn determined. It took him little effort to pry the pistol from Mr. Ramsay’s hand, at which point he tossed it onto the bed.
“Wait!” Mr. Ramsay stepped back, hands held before him, fear now taking over because he could see the situation unfolding. And it wasn’t good. For him, anyway. “We can talk about?—”
Sebastian’s right fist connected squarely with Mr. Ramsay’s nose. Helena heard bone breaking and Mr. Ramsay squawk in pain as he stumbled back. He fell into the wall, his hands automatically covering his face. But that just left his stomach exposed.
Sebastian aimed another brutal punch at him, this time connecting with his stomach. Mr. Ramsay doubled over, which saw Sebastian grab him by the head and drive his knee into the publisher’s face.
“Argh!” Mr. Ramsay cried as Sebastian, still holding him by the head, tossed him to the ground. “Please!” Sebastian drove his foot into the man’s stomach. “Argh!” And again.
He was like an animal.
Helena watched, wide-eyed, as Sebastian savaged Mr. Ramsay. Beat him into a bloody pulp. So vicious and brutal were the attacks that she started to feel bad for the little man. She expected Sebastian to stop. She figured that once Mr. Ramsay was incapacitated, Sebastian would calm down.
Oh no, he is going to kill him.
Helena was no fan of Mr. Ramsay’s, and she would be lying if she said that she didn’t take some pleasure from seeing him brutalized. But it was over; he was no longer a threat, and she worried what might happen if Sebastian didn’t get a hold of himself.
“Sebastian!” she cried out as she scrambled to her feet. “Stop!”
Sebastian stood over Mr. Ramsay, his foot raised, his jaw clenched as he seethed and spat his fury. Very much ready to kill.
But her voice somehow broke him from his rage. His head snapped around, finding her, and she looked at him pleadingly.
“It is done…” Slowly, she crossed the room, holding out a hand for him to take. “It is over.”
“But he… he would have killed you,” Sebastian snarled.
“Perhaps.”
“He meant to use you against me. The children… He… he needs to pay.” He glared at Mr. Ramsay, who whimpered pathetically on the floor.
“And he will.” Helena reached for Sebastian’s hand and took it. “But not like this. Not like this.”
