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And this is the reason why I never told him what Phil wanted me to do. Because if push comes to shove, Quinn would sacrifice anybody to save me, and I can’t allow that.
Not ever again.
Ignoring Quinn, I focus on the asshole in front of me.
“You’re right, I do want you, but this attitude of yours, I don’t like it. I think I may need to break you…or maybe break a few fingers to rein you back in.”
Before I have time to protest, he reaches for Abi’s pointer finger and bends it backward, snapping it with a sickening sound. She howls in pain, her hand cradling her broken finger while Phil laughs, clapping his hands in delight.
“Ah, music to my ears.” He smirks, cupping a hand over his ear, hoping to amplify Abi’s sobs.
“Red, what are you doing?” Quinn whispers, but I barely hear it above Abi’s wailing.
“Forgive me,” I whisper back, now understanding the words he whispered to me when the tables were turned.
Before he has time to question me, I step forward, hands raised in surrender. “Let her go, and I’ll come willingly.”
“Red, no!” Quinn screams, gripping my arm and stopping me from taking another step.
He now gets it. He, better than anybody, understands what an ultimatum looks like.
Although our situations are miles apart, when given a choice, you have to choose the right one. And this, this is the right choice. This is right for everybody.
“Let her go, or I break another finger,” Phil threatens, snatching up Abi’s hand.
When Quinn hears Abi whimper, he reluctantly releases me.
“You see, we all want the same thing.” He drops Abi’s hand like he has her best interests at heart.
Walking down the first step, I look toward the van and know Thomas is hiding inside with an assortment of weaponry on hand. I can only hope Tristan doesn’t come to my rescue because he’ll be dead before he can fire a single round.
As I descend the last step, I try not to recoil as I come face to face with my enemy. He looks the same.
Same shit-eating grin.
Same cold, dead eyes.
Same overconfident stature.
But most of all, same greedy, motherfucking smell of victory.
We’re all pawns to Phil, some more valuable than others. But we’re all movable game pieces in Phil’s mind, and he’ll do anything to call checkmate.
“I’m sorry, Abi,” I say, my wavering voice betraying my emotions.
“No, I’m the one who’s sorry,” she cries, her big eyes filling with more tears. “I couldn’t wait to tell you…we did it.”
And I know by “did it,” she means we’re finally free.
I close my eyes in relief. The joy I feel knowing Quinn is free and no longer a fugitive has a single tear slipping down my cheek.
Her words give me the strength I need, and I open my eyes with fierce determination.
“Thank you. He’s free because of you,” I whisper, and Abi bites her lip, understanding what I’m about to do.
“I’ll do it,” I state, looking at Phil, who watches our exchange with interest.
“What couldn’t she wait to tell you?” he asks instead. He’s not as dumb as he looks.
