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“My fight was with your father; you inherited it. Such a shame. But alas, business is business.”
“I know nothing about your damn business.” Connor seethes, losing his relaxed stance and sitting forward.
Viktor doesn’t react. “Be that as it may, with you out of the way, it will be much easier to take over the other four buffoons and run them into the ground.”
“What do you want?”
“Everything your father took from me. I have my daughter back, and now, I want my control.”
“You can have it,” Connor says. “I don’t fucking want it.”
“I can’t trust you anymore, dear boy. Therefore, I’ll do what must be done.”
Viktor’s movements are much quicker than I would have anticipated for his age. A gun appears in his hand, and he’s aiming it straight at Connor. Ruby’s hand clutches mine, and she lets out a small gasp while a scream wrenches itself from my throat. Connor doesn’t move, his eyes locked on Viktor. If looks could kill, the hate swirling in them would incinerate Viktor.
A scuffle outside the door draws our attention, and the doors are kicked open. Ruby lets out another gasp as Lilliana appears. Her face drains of all color as she steps inside, her eyes locked on the gun Viktor is pointing at her brother.
“What the fuck?” I whisper as Francesca rushes in behind her, a gun in her hand.
What the hell is going on?
Then, it’s as if everything happens in slow motion. It’s like I’m underwater, and the sounds are distorted, reactions slowed.
Viktor looks toward Lilliana and Francesca, leaving Connor free to bring his hand up and then down, striking Viktor’s wrist, causing him to lose his grip on the gun. His head whips back, but it’s too late. Connor has caught the gun midair and deftly turned it around. Staring down the barrel of a gun would make most men sweat or pray. Some would beg for their lives. Some would cry, maybe piss themselves. But Viktor merely cocks an eyebrow, as if taunting Connor to pull the trigger.
The blast startles us all. One moment, they are facing off, and the next, Viktor is in a heap on the floor, a pool of blood spreading from his chest.
He heaves a few garbled breaths, and then he’s still, his unseeing eyes staring at the ceiling.
All this time fighting him, and it’s over in the time it takes a finger to pull a trigger and a bullet to rip open a body.
In the end, we are all mortal. We go to our death as we entered the world. By ourselves. You are the only one being birthed, and you are the only one losing your lifeblood and breath.
Chaos ensues, and shots are fired from all directions. Connor, Francesca, and armed guards are locked in a battle. Ruby grabs my arm, but I can’t look away as Lilliana kneels beside her grandfather’s form, seemingly oblivious to the danger surrounding her. I wrench myself from Ruby’s hand and rush toward Lilliana. I don’t know why. I don’t know how I can help. I cover her body with my own, my mouth next to her ear.
“He’s gone. You need to get out of here,” I tell her, and she turns to me, tears streaking her cheeks.
“Death is so lonely,” she says.
I nod, standing and pulling her with me. She struggles to her feet, and we turn, intent on getting to where Ruby is leaving through the door.
Then, I scream.
A stray bullet tears through Ruby, flaying her open as her body bows under the pressure of the bullet penetrating her lower back. She’s flung forward, landing on her front, and where I felt relief to see the red bloom surround Viktor, now, my chest hurts with desperation. I have to get to her.
Flashes of the dead and dying flow through my mind. Bertrand, Miss Lulah, Viktor, now Ruby. I had a hand in all of them.
“No, no, no,” I find myself murmuring as I kneel beside her.
I press my palm to her back, trying to stop the blood flow. Then, I realize more is coming out of the front. I forget everything I know about moving someone who is hurt when I push against her, flipping her body. Her eyes immediately find mine. Terror, anguish, fear stare back at me. I push my hand against the wound, saying whatever comes to mind to calm her.
“Rubes, it’s okay. You’re going to be okay. You’re fine.”
Maybe I’m trying to convince myself as blood leaks between my fingers, running down my palm, splattering on the floor. Her lips move, but she doesn’t make any noise.
I lean closer. “What, babe?”
“Promise me,” she murmurs before pausing.
