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I expected this from Father, but not from her. Not my own mother.
When another pop makes my body flinch, the bottom of my dress gets splattered with yet another shade of red. Then my mother falls face first over her husband.
Somewhere in the back of my eyes, I can feel a subtle burn as I watch her body limp. Did I have hope? Did I think that without my father, she would be a different woman? The one she suppressed during the years she spent under his iron fist? Did I think that she would finally… love me?
I did…she was my mother.
My gaze flickers to my brother, whose gun is no longer aimed at anyone. He looks up at me, and we stare at each other for a few moments… It hurts, it hurts that it had to come to this, that we were nothing to the people that birthed us. It hurts that nothing could be done, that they didn’t love us, even though, somewhere deep down, we still loved them.
I have no idea who shot them both. Was it the same person? Or was one shot by one, the other by another? Do I want to know? Does it matter?
It does… and eventually, I will find out.
Somewhere next to me, I see movement in the corner of my eye, and I realize there is only one man left in this massacre.
Slowly turning, I swipe my gaze from my parents’ dead bodies, to the man I blame for most of this. I take a small step forward.
“What now,darling? Your plan is ruined. You have no money, no life, no one that cares. You’ll lose your house, your cars, racketeers are on your tail… you’re done.” I take yet another step forward, but this time, he takes the same step back. “Almost.”
“I’m going to make you pay for this!” He grabs my arm, his fingers digging hard into my bicep. “For destroying my life, starting with the first ever moment I laid eyes on you!” Before the sentence is finished, his mouth still open, I pull out the letter opener, and with a hard swing upwards, I sink it into his flesh, into those muscles that fill the hollow space inside his mandible, where it connects with the throat. His mouth falls open with shock, and I can see the sharp metal inside it. It pierced his tongue and hit the top of his mouth, blood pouring out of it with a speed I didn’t quite expect.
For those few moments, the shock that keeps him from reacting to the pain is utterly satisfying. I was expecting screams, begging, swearing, lunging at me, but for those few moments, it’s silent.
Then chaos descends, as he pulls me toward him, his hand still gripping my upper arm, and I pull the metal out of his mouth, just before he manages to. When his hand reaches for the letter opener, I knee the bastard in the balls, and the moment he instinctively bends over, I grab him by the bow tie, hold him tight, and sink the motherfucking metal straight into his left ear as hard and fast as I can.
The screams that follow are so visceral, I would feel sorry for him if this wasn’t exactly what the asshole deserves. Only he doesn’t fucking die! My breathing quickens, my whole body is taken over by this raging heat and I lunge back at the metal. I push his hands away as he tries to pull it out, so I can pry it out myself and shove it in all over again.
He needs to fucking die already!
But an arm wraps around me, pulling me back against a warm body that smells of enticing bergamot, and he holds me so close, so tight, in such comfort. My lungs seem to slow down their effort, smothering whatever fire started inside of me. Then another arm extends on the other side of me, a gun aimed at the man that writhes in pain in front of us, and my fidgeting stops.
The end is in sight.
I sigh and sink back into the man that keeps me safe.
“End it.” Two words I speak, and the pop of the silenced gun sounds like sharp metal on metal, sinking through molasses.
Just like that… it’s all over.
He falls at our feet, limp… blood puddles underneath his head, spreading further and further.
I hear voices around me, orders, instructions… there’s movement too. Only I’m stuck here, watching him, unable to pry my eyes away, just in case… just in case he somehow gets up.
Just in case I’m imagining it. Dreaming it. Hallucinating… Just in case it isn’t over.
“Come on, Little Eve. Let’s go.”
“What if…?”
“It’s over. He’s gone. They all are. Just as I promised you.” Vincent pulls me away gently, and my body complies, yet even as I move, my eyes are still stuck on the limp man.
Blackness fills my vision, blocking my view of him, then two warm hands grip the sides of my face and guide my head up. The most beautiful, dark and vicious black eyes meet me, carrying more emotion than I thought possible.
“It’s all done, Morrigan. All done.” He presses his lips to mine, hard and possessive, holding me there for a moment longer than needed, and when he breaks away, there is something in his eyes I cannot quite place.
Is it relief?
CHAPTERTHIRTY-FIVE
