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It was my turn to rush him, and he tumbled back to the floor. I went down with him. Swiftly bringing the switchblade to his chest, I sought to stab him in the heart and end this little fight for good, but Gareth knocked the arm off-course with a punch, which made the blade miss and cut his other arm instead.
My body was screaming; getting stabbed wasn’t all fun and games, but I couldn’t take a moment to assess the pain, not with this asshole still trying to kill me. I had the superior position now, and I was going to take this motherfucker out.
I brought the sharp edge of the switchblade to his throat, and Gareth responded by grabbing my wrist with both hands and pushing back. We were locked in a contest of strength, like the ones you saw in the movies, where, for a few moments at least, the hero and the villain were evenly matched, and you had no idea who would emerge the winner. I pushed down with all my might while Gareth resisted and pushed back.
I had the better position, though. I could put my whole body behind it thanks to the help of gravity, and that’s what I did. The moment I leaned forward, I could feel the switchblade inching closer to his neck. Gareth was losing. I was seconds from ending this once and for all.
But Gareth wasn’t done yet. He kneed me in the groin, and all of the air whooshed out of my lungs as a new type of pain exploded within me. I think I saw stars, for real. Bloody fucking stars.
While I was busy recoiling from the jolt to the gonads, Gareth managed to get me off him. His hand searched for the gun that slid underneath the couch, and it was just my shitty luck that he found it right away. I was in the process of getting to my knees and getting up when I heard him switch the safety off and pull the barrel back.
The moment I felt that cold metal press against my forehead, I froze and glared up at him. I was on a knee, half up, still fighting the sheer agony that was getting kneed in the balls at full-force, not to mention a stab wound in the shoulder.
And Gareth? He looked fine. Maybe a little out of breath, but that’s it. The asshole had not a single cut on him, not even a bruise. Fuck. He’d definitely won this round—and unfortunately for me, it was the only one that mattered.
I was trained in the art of takedown, but Gareth still won. What kind of twisted fuckery was this? Murphy’s fucking Law, that’s what. I’d finally found something to live for, someone who made me feel alive, and I was going to die knowing Gareth would use her up and then kill her once he got bored.
“Any final words, Uncle?” Gareth asked, holding onto the pistol with both hands, firm in his stance. I had the switchblade still, but I wouldn’t be able to get anywhere important, not quicker than he could pull the trigger.
So, I sat back on my feet and tossed the switchblade at his feet as I said, “Yeah, I got a few.”
“Go on, then,” Gareth growled out. “Say what you want. Better make them count, since they’ll be your last.” He smirked at that.
“If you think it ends tonight, you’re wrong,” I told him, and I noticed the way his glare narrowed at that. I went on, “If you think I’m the only one you have to worry about, you’re wrong.”
“My uncle,” Gareth muttered. “Alistair.” Ah, so he already knew, then?
“Are you going to kill him next? How are you going to push that under the rug? Alistair has always taken care of you, Gareth, no matter who you killed, even when it was his own sister.” I swallowed, and I struggled to remain calm. Talking about Veronica like that… it still didn’t feel right, even after all these years.
But she was dead, and there was no changing the past. The only thing we could change was the present… and the future.
“What will you do once he’s gone? Do you think you’ll be able to handle everything as he has? I have my doubts, but what do I know? I’m just the crooked sheriff in Alistair’s pocket.” I paused. “No, wait. I don’t care about that. Let’s talk about Brianna instead.”
That got Gareth to step forward and press the gun against my forehead again, harder this time. “What about her?” he hissed out the words, his finger tight on the trigger.
“How long does she have? How long until you get tired of her? I’ve never known you to stay interested in anything, Gareth, not once in your whole damn life.” I hated the fact that Gareth wanted her so badly he’d kill… hated that I wanted her just as much. But unlike Gareth, I’d never kill her. That was the difference between him and me.
Gareth bared his teeth at me again. “I’m not going to get tired of her. She’s mine! I…” He got quiet, his green eyes widening behind his glasses, as if something occurred to him right then, something that was so sudden, so shocking, he was left speechless.
If he wouldn’t say it, I would. I could see it written on his face. Only one thing would leave him speechless like that, something he wasn’t used to feeling—and that made it all the richer. “You’re in love with her.” I chuckled quietly. “Gareth Montgomery, the psycho Prince of Eastcreek, is in love. How touching.” My sarcasm could not be laced thicker. Really: gag me.
“I am not,” he declared, pushing the gun against my forehead again.
“When did it happen, kid? When you almost watched her die? That’ll do it.”
“Shut up.”
“So maybe you won’t kill her. Maybe you’ll just kill every poor fool that looks at her in a way you don’t like—after you kill Alistair, of course. How many bodies will pile up, Gareth? How many people will you kill just to keep her by your side? Without me, without Alistair… how long can you really keep her safe?”
Many people, when in my position, might say whatever they could to try to sway the gun-holder not to shoot, but not me. I said all these things because they were true, because that’s what would happen once Gareth killed me and then Alistair. He’d be left to fend for himself, and he was far too rash and unthinking of the consequences to make it far, let alone keep Brianna at his side.
I know. It was ironic, me thinking that, considering I’d killed my own brother without giving a single shit what the consequences would be. But that was twelve years ago. Things had changed. I’d grown.
“At least you won’t be around to see it,” Gareth muttered, letting out a calm breath.
“You know, I didn’t force Brianna to do anything. She wanted me—”
Gareth made his first mistake then: he took a step back and lifted both his hands to his head, gun included, and said, “Shut up!” He apparently didn’t want to think of us together, and I couldn’t blame him for that.
