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All I can see when I look at him is the end of her life. Her body in my arms. Her funeral.
Her small casket.
If I thought I’d seen him scared before, I was wrong. Nothing, and I mean nothing, compares to the look that covers his face when I get the gun out of my pocket with a shaking hand.
I point it at him.
Tears fog my sight.
“Please, don’t. I’m begging you.” He puts his hands up.
It all happens too fast.
“Stop!” a voice screams from across the room.
I jolt around.
And see her.
In the doorway.
Eyes full of tears. Fear.
Her gaze travels to the floor.
To the decomposing corpse. She gasps in horror, her hand flying to her mouth.
What the fuck is she doing here?
No, no.
She can’t be here.
The rapid pumping of my heart echoes in my ear. Then the bloody mess on the ground speaks.
“Winter?” he chokes.
I frown.
She arches an eyebrow, just as confused as I am. Marcus’s lips quirk up into a smile. He’s happy. The bastard is actually happy that she’s here.
Why?
His smile seems to trigger something in her.
Life drains from her eyes.
Trembling fingers sneak into her coat pocket, and she pulls a piece of paper out.
A picture.
Her eyes sway back and forth between the waste of oxygen and the photograph in her hands.
Then she says something straight out of my worst nightmare.
“D-Dad?”
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