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I let the car move after putting it on cruise control. The SUV came to a halt next to my car before the Robinsons opened fire as it began to move forward. Drawing their attention away from me, I used the vehicle as a shield.
The men redirected their fire away from my position and continued to shoot at the car moving down the road. I opened fire on the SUV, firing rapid rounds that hit the driver and the man in the backseat.
I heard a door open and realized someone was trying to flee. Not onmy watch. I dashed across the road, stopping for safety behind the SUV.
"Show your face!" I heard a familiar voice from my blindside. It was Vanessa's uncle, Fred Westbrook.
I was surprised to see him at the cemetery. My thoughts were distorted by his startling presence. It made me wonder if he'd always been working with the Robinsons. If that was true, I knew it made the war between our families more personal.
"If you drop your weapon, old man, I'll let you go," I told him.
Overconfidence did not come naturally to me. He had a better chance at me than I did at him, so I had to bluff and wait for an opportunity to catch him off guard.
You can't kill him. He's Vanessa's uncle. But there was also the truth that he stabbed Uncle Luke and betrayed the family. The conflict ignited in my mind.
"Maybe I'll let you live if you drop your weapon and take me to my niece," he threatened.
"I'm afraid I won't be able to do so. She refuses to leave," I replied.
I wished Vanessa was there to express herselfto her uncle. She'd admitted to havingfeelings for me. And I've been wondering if she'd could be able to loveme the days after all this.
I found myself in a bind.
"You do not represent my niece. She has done you no wrong. I stabbed your uncle, not her. I don't care if I have to shoot you to get her back," he cursed.
I am not the bad guy—not now, at least. I wanted to say something to him, but I knew he'd blow my head off first. He still saw me as the man who had kidnapped his niece. Turning to my left, I noticed Tristan, who was hiding behind a tombstone.
He made a motion to me, indicating that he had a good shot on Fred. I had no doubts about Tristan's confidence. He'd hit Fred from there if he thought he could. But I was still hesitant to issue the order. Every time, my mind went to Vanessa. I didn't want to be the one who caused her such pain.
Circle round, I motioned to Tristan. He was reluctant but obeyed, moving out of my line of sight.
"Who sent you to kill my uncle? Was it the Robinson family?" I asked Fred, hoping to divert his attention.
"I did it all by myself, but it makes no difference to you. You and your uncle have no sense of honor or fairness. I wrongedyou. Your dispute is not with her."
"I swear to you, if you put down your weapon, you will see her," I promised, but Fred countered with a warning shot that bounced off the body of the SUV, right in front of my face.
"Show me your hands," Tristan's voice came from behind Fred, catching him off guard.
I emerged from behind the car, gun in hand, and confronted Fred, the man who had betrayed my family. He was red-faced and without remorse, as expected, angry about Vanessa.
"As promised, you will see your niece, and you will assist me in filling in the blanks about everything. I'd like to know the names of everyone involved in this,"I explained to Fred. He didn't respond at the time, but it was a minor show of bravado. He knew he wasbeaten and had a gun pointed at the back of his head, but he didn't have much of a choice.
"Dropyour gun." Tristan nudged him, and Fred knelt and placed his rifle on the ground.
Something bothered him as he slowly straightened back up. His eyes were filled with red rage, which was to be expected given that he didn't know the truth.
He intended to try something new. I knew it, but as I watched his hands rise, I couldn't believe it.
"Ethan," he said, my gaze shifting from his hands to his face.
Fred pulled out a pistol and shot me in the chest in a quick motion that even the keen-eyed Tristan missed.
As I hit the asphalt, the sky above turned white as I felt backward, thinking of one person: Vanessa.
