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“Goddamn it, Willow. Get the fuck upstairs and grab my gun.”
The gun.
I took off up the steps, taking them two at a time. Something hit the front door just as I reached his bedroom doorway.
Laughter floated up from below, making my skin crawl. Seth. Fuck.
I ran for the nightstand, diving across the bed. Just like he said, there was a gun strapped to the bottom side of it. It pulled away with ease. Scrambling back across the mattress, I was almost out of the room when I heard a loud pop ring out.
My stomach dropped to the floor. Keeping close to the wall, I fumbled with the safety switch and inched forward.
Peering around the corner, I looked down to see the banister spindle where Pierce had just been tied was broken and missing, a small smudge of blood on the floor.
Hearing voices coming from the sunroom, I slowly inched down the stairs. The front door stood wide open but there was no sign of Tito or the other guard.
“Your father didn’t kill the bitch. I did. She was using more product than she was worth,” Seth loudly confessed.
I almost fell over my own two feet. He’d killed my sister? Pierce said something back, but it was too low for me to hear.
“Where’s Willow?”
“She’s—”
“Right here,” I responded coolly, coming around the corner with the gun held tightly in my hand.
They both turned to look at me. I felt an instant relief when I saw Pierce wasn’t critically injured.
“And what are you going to do with that?” Seth asked in amusement, eyeing the gun in my hand.
“I dunno. What do you think I should do with it, dad?”
“Oh, I see. You’re upset.—No matter my reasons. We both know I did you a favor by taking you in.”
“And Cassie?”
“An unfortunate casulty. Every fued has a few.”
I glanced at Pierce to see him watching me with an unreadable expression on his face. Seth followed my gaze and scoffed.
“You can tell him goodbye if you want but whatever you two had going on is done. You’re coming with me.”
He pointed his gun towards Pierce and I reacted on instinct. It was him who taught me to never hesitate when your finger was on the trigger.
There was a bang but nothing happened.
“You gave me a gun with blanks?”
I looked at Pierce and Seth looked at me, laughter spilling from his mouth. That was his fatal mistake, taking his eyes off the only real threat in the room.
Pierce pulled a gun from his waistband and fired twice. Seth’s head snapped back, I flinched as blood and a chunk of brain matter hit the patio wall, and Seth’s body tumbled to the floor. I swallowed and stared at the puddle of crimson forming around his head. His eyes were still open, a smile slowly fading from his face.
It was odd, maybe wrong, to feel a sudden peace now that he was gone. My sister’s killer. The man who had taken care of me for so long for his own hidden agenda. One I still wasn’t sure of.
“Sir?” Tito called out, bursting through the deck door.
“Where the hell were you ten minutes ago?” I looked from him, to Seth, and then back to Pierce. “Did you plan this?”
“Of course, I planned this. Minus you tying me up. Poor use of restraint on your end. Fortunately, for me.”
There were truly no words for the lengths he went to. He was always ten steps ahead of everyone else. “I can’t believe you. He was going to kill you, you idiot!”
“Get him out of here,” he said to Tito, slowly approaching me. “You wouldn’t have let that happen.” He cupped my face and wiped away the tears I hadn’t even realized were free-falling.
He was right; I wouldn’t have let it happen. I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed as hard as I could.
“Why did you give me a gun with blanks?”
“It’s not your job to kill people. It’s mine. Taking his life would only make him forever haunt yours. I refused to let that happen.”
I peeked around his shoulder to watch Tito drag Seth’s body towards the door, but Pierce easily side-stepped to block my view.
“You don’t need to see that. I know you care for him. When everything really sinks in I know you’ll mourn the person you thought he was. But one day, you will feel freedom and peace, leaving the past to lie where it is.”
I couldn’t form a response to that right then. “I want a real gun,” I demanded, not anywhere near ready to discuss what had just happened, and because he got me more than I gave him credit for, he didn’t push.
“Well, I want to discuss you hitting me with a dirty shovel.” He scooped me up like I weighed nothing and carried me back into the main part of the house. We had a lot to discuss, and I had a lot to grieve for.
