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“How about you cut the shit and tell me what the hell happened last night?” she demanded, her voice rising. She was out of breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
Concern hit me. “Do you really not know how she played me?”
“Played you?”
With a growl, I stood from my chair, bracing my hands on the desk. I leaned over the woman. “She’s still working for Moonie!” I yelled. “She’s still on his fucking payroll, Nancy! Are you really going to sit there, in my house, and act like you didn’t know?”
Hell, Valerie probably agreed to have her mom come out here to see her latest conquest. Then, they would run off into the sunset together, Moonie’s check in hand. My skin grew tight, and I felt a drop of sweat trickle down the side of my temple. The second chair beside Nancy had been empty, but now it wasn’t.
I blinked, but the man in the chair didn’t disappear.
The man in the chair was my dead father. He was old, worn, and had white hair. His gray eyes assessed me as his head slowly tilted. He crossed his ankle over the opposite knee and sat back. Then, he pointed to the woman beside him.
“This is a wolf in sheep’s clothing, son. I thought I taught you better than that,” he said, his old voice shaking slightly, but it was hard to miss the disappointment in it.
I brought my hands to my hair, pushing my hat off. It was happening again, and I couldn’t stop it. In the distance, I heard bullets flying and bombs exploding. Pop didn’t seem to be bothered.
“You know, I always was proud of you. Then you had to go and become something you aren’t,” he continued. “A hero.”
“Stop,” I ordered, blinking and shaking my head. It’s not real.
I was back in the war zone, the Marine beside me firing his gun, yelling out something as I ducked to reload. When I looked back up not even half a second later, blood splattered across my face. The soldier fell, his face in the dirt.
Never leave a man behind.
I sprang into action, my ears still ringing from the bomb. Crouching low, I called out his name and pushed him over. That wasn’t soldier. With a cry, I jumped back, landing on my ass. That wasn’t a Marine.
It was Valerie.
“Baby,” I croaked, crawling back to her.
The light in her enchanting green eyes was gone, her mouth open, her jaw slack. Blood covered her forehead, oozing from the bullet hole, tainting her soft, flawless skin. “No, Val. Fuck, baby,” I whimpered, hauling her to me. I shook her. Once. Twice.
She was gone.
My arms wrapped around her, holding her body to mine. I twisted, shielding her from the incoming bullets. Even in death, I wanted to protect her. Even in death, my love for her still lived. The gunshots ceased and a low, cruel chuckle filled my ears.
I lifted my head to find Tim Moonie standing a few feet away from me, dressed in a navy suit and gold tie. He was holding a bottle of champagne. The smile he wore was so sinister, it could’ve given nuns nightmares. He raised the bottle in victory, and suddenly, everything around me changed.
Valerie’s dead weight vanished. She was no longer in my arms. I scrambled, putting my hands on the green grass—grass. I looked at Moonie again and realized we were home. We were back at Hallow Ranch. There was a red ribbon that stretched between two poles, sticking out from the ground. Moonie tossed the bottle to me, and I caught it just in time.
“Go ahead and pour a glass, Langston! It’s time to celebrate!”
The bottle disappeared from my hand and was replaced with a glass.
A glass filled with blood.
“You know, I liked that girl. She did such a good job. Made me a lot of fucking money,” Moonie sighed. He lifted a pair of scissors, lining the blades up with the red ribbon. “Shame I had to kill her because of your stubbornness.”
The glass in my hand bubbled up and over flowed, the blood covering my skin.
“Denver…”
It was a whisper in the wind. A plea. A cry for help. My head snapped to the right. There she was. My enchantress. She was running to me, wearing her blue dress, her shiny, wavy, dark hair flowing behind her. There were tears running down her face, ruining her mascara. I don’t know why she was wearing makeup. She looked beautiful without it. I’d told her that a thousand times…hadn’t I?
Tim laughed again. “Oh, no you don’t, Ms. Cross. Sacrifices don’t get to run.”
My eyes didn’t leave her as her body jerked back from the force of the bullets. One. Two. Three. I shouted and tried to run, but I couldn’t. I was being held back by someone.
