Page 120 of Brutal Truths

“Yes, Gabs.”

Her right hand lifts, fingers trembling as she counts down. Each second stretches, heavy and slow as her head bobs and her eyelids fall.

When she only has one finger up, her eyes pop open and she yells. “Now!”

Training takes over. My body drops before the word fully lands, arms coming up to shield my head as my face hits the cold marble.

A deafening⁠—

Pop.

Pop.

Pop.

Two solid thuds hit the marble, followed by a much softer one that lands with an almost silent grace.

“You okay?” A woman’s voice sounds from behind me. “Did I hit them?”

Lifting my head, I glance over the scene, answering because I assume Gabby is out cold. “How the fuck did you do that if you can’t see?”

“Lots of fucking practice,” Anna replies, walking toward us. “I’m not completely blind—just mostly. I see shadows. It’s knowing which ones to aim at and which ones not to.”

A groan breaks through the tension as Gabby stirs from her spot on the floor. “That’s why you hit the deck. Big guy behind me was obvious… but that skinny, short motherfucker—not so much.”

Quentin lets out a weak moan from where he’s down.

“Isabel, take the gun from Anna and shoot him again if he makes any sudden moves.” Gabby orders, pushing herself up, her body unsteady but fighting through it. Now on her knees, she turns to check the man behind her. “Damn, Anna… dead fucking center.”

I take the gun from Anna and level it at the man I once trusted. The hatred in his eyes is unmistakable, sharp enough to make me question how I never noticed it before.

“You fucking whore.” He coughs, blood spilling down his chin. “All you had to do was come with me that night. If you’d have just done that, all of this would’ve been avoided.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Quentin?” My aim is steady; if he so much as flinches wrong, I’ll shoot him and won’t lose any sleep over it.

“My uncle. He had a plan. Solid.” Another cough racks through him.

“Not so solid unless he planned on dying,” Gabby murmurs, too low for Quentin to hear.

“Kidnap you. Use that wannabe Rurik fucker as a cover.” His hand touches his side where blood is pooling fast. “Fuck.”

“What do you mean, use Rurik?” I ask.

“Why should I tell you?” His eyes burn into me. “You going to let me bleed out? Or did you forget the oath we took when we entered medical school?”

No.

“Anna, get over here.” When she steps up next to me, I press the gun into her hands. “Aim at his head. If he so much as twitches, blow his brains out.”

Gabby pushes to her feet, swaying for half a second before finding her balance and heading our way. “Hang on. I’ve got a better idea.”

She takes the gun from Anna and swaps it for a blade. “Put that against his throat. Harder for him to move, and you won’t shoot my sister by accident.”

“Good thinking,” Anna kneels behind Quentin, gripping his head firmly as she sets the blade against his throat.

“Oh, and be careful. That blade is razor-sharp. It’ll slice through his skin like butter.” She joins me as we kneel on the floor next to him, her voice calm despite everything. “I wouldn’t breathe too hard if I were you. Wouldn’t want her to kill you by mistake.”

“Fuck you.” Quentin growls. “All of you.”