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“FUCK.” Geo strikes the steering wheel.
He turns again, and this time, we are headed back to the club. Ginny climbs out from under me and across the console to sit in the passenger seat beside Geo, and I’m finally upright, holding on to whatever I can grasp so I don’t slide everywhere with Geo’s reckless driving.
“Where did we see Lucas last?” Dean asks the two in the front, and they shake their heads.
“I don’t know. It was chaos,” Ginny says.
“He was with me until I went to get the car,” Geo says.
I stay silent. I have no idea what happened outside.
Our headlights illuminate Paul’s mottled face as he runs straight toward us.
“Watch out,” Ginny screams as she tries to wrench the steering wheel sideways.
“Don’t ever fucking do that again,” Geo yells back at her as he straightens the car back out.
We are being tossed about like cereal in a shaken box.
“Quit fucking yelling at each other,” Dean says, also yelling.
Geo narrowly misses running over Paul, which is ironic in a way since we were planning on killing them tonight anyway. But not by smashing their brains under our tires. Paul’s fist bangs into the window beside me as we fly past, the impact spinning him around, and he loses his balance, falling onto the pavement.
Shots ring out and ping into the metal of our vehicle. Geo curses and jerks to the side. A bullet hits the windshield, cracking it.
“Where is that coming from?” I growl, clenching the handle of my gun, which has somehow managed to stay in my grasp.
“I don’t know. I can’t tell where anything is right now,” Ginny says. “I don’t see Lucas anywhere.”
“What a damn shit show,” Dean mutters. “We saw Viktor go in with Wryn.”
“Fucking karma,” I say cryptically, not even sure I know what I mean. “Yeah, seems Wryn might have sold me out.”
“Fuck,” Geo says.
I don’t say anything. I shouldn’t have trusted her.
We slow to a crawl, no one around us. I haven’t seen Antonio outside. I’m not sure if he made it out of the room or not. He might be lying on the floor beside Dahlia and William.
Finally, we come to the back of Dahlia’s building and creep to the edge. Our lights illuminate around the side, and we see them. Vincent and Lucas are locked in a standoff. Guns trained on each other. Ginny covers her mouth, eyes wide, and we freeze.
Nothing happens until I reach and slowly push the button to lower my window about two inches. I push my gun barrel through the opening and train it on Vincent. He’s leaking blood from his shoulder, where Ginny’s bullet landed. But he doesn’t see us.
I squeeze the trigger. Multiple shots sound. We watch in horror as Vincent and Lucas both fall, and I can hear their bodies thud to the ground through the sliver of the open window. It’s almost like slow motion, the blood spraying out one side, their faces contorting, all lit up by our vehicle.
Ginny screams. Vincent and Lucas don’t move.
“He was my father,” she says, then screams again.
Maybe I was wrong that she was okay with this.
“He was my friend.”
I think she’s talking about both. Like she doesn’t know which one to process first.
“We don’t know that they are dead,” I say, but I know. I saw where the bullets hit. My own slammed into Vincent’s chest while Vincent’s bullet went straight through Lucas’s forehead.
They won’t be coming back from that.
