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There was a bulge in Mano’s back pocket, and I know he had a gun there.

If I could just get to it. . .if I could distract him. . .

“Where is Gran, Réjean? What did you and Da do with her?”

He flicked his eyes back to me.

Why should I tell my whore sister anything?”

But I was past there being any bitter sting in that word.

“Where is she buried?”

He shrugged. “She’s where all mouthy women go—to live with the ancestors. You, Léonie, you were supposed to keep Étienne interested with your cunt. You’ve failed.”

“Come away from him,” Hugo was trying to coax his mother away. “This is wrong, Mme. You cannot want to betray your family like this.”

But she was unglued, slapping at him.

“My family are all dead to me, without honor we are nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! And soft men are nothing to me.”

She had a knife in her hand, slashing at him and forcing Hugo to stumble sideways to avoid it.

“Calm down, bitch,” Réjean snarled, trying to drag her away, and in that moment I reached in Mano’s back pocket and pulled out a gun.

“You have no lands to return to,” I said, hiding it behind my back.

I knew how to shoot this, didn’t I? My fingers were slick on the cool steel.

“I tried to kill you before, you know,” Placidie said in an artificially chipper tone as she straightened her skirt. “I can’t abide weakness. But, for some reason, one of your god-damned brothers was always around.”

From her tone, you would have thought she was discussing the menu for a picnic instead of cold-blooded murder.

“Shoot him, Réjean,” she said. “It would give me pleasure to see him die in front of me.”

My brother shrugged, dropping Mano’s limp body to the ground. Then he aimed the gun at Hugo.

The blood rushed into my ears in a great, thundering storm and I pointed my gun at Réjean with trembling fingers. And shot him.

The bullet missed his chest, but buried itself deep in the flesh of his upper arm. Réjean roared in rage as his gun clattered away on the marble flooring, and Placidie picked up a heavy vase, like she was going to hit Hugo with it.

He put one hand out to block her blow, and the vase slipped from her fingers and landed, in horrifying slow-motion, directly on her skull.

“Give it up,” I screamed at Réjean as he advanced on me and ripped the gun from my hand. “You won’t succeed. My husband won’t let you.”

Réjean snorted.

“Étienne can’t outthink me. You weren’t there when he was negotiating your bride-price. He was weak. You could smell his desperation to marry you. Da took him for all he could and Étienne barely made a peep. Maybe the rest of my family is dead, but I’ll be able to take over the Bastides. Your husband went belly-up.”

Réjean aimed a blow at my skull, like he was going to pistol-whip me, and I stumbled backwards, almost falling before a strong hand gripped me and set me on my feet again.

“I laid down belly-up because I’d do anything to keep Léonie. You confused that for weakness.”

Étienne didn’t hesitate.

He stabbed Réjean in the gut and tore him open.

As my brother blinked in confusion, Étienne kicked his body backwards and spat on his forehead.