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“You were meant to get the money and get out.” He looks at me, and I think pity flits through his face before he continues. “I got the money. Finish this now, or I will!”
Charles turns to me, darkened eyes narrow into slits, his full unwavering attention on me as his ally draws his weapon. Cameron appears behind him.
My lungs congeal with pure horror as I watch it all in slow motion over Charles’ shoulder. The muzzle spins, followed by the Chief’s body, and the loud bangs are punctuated by the jolt of his elbows from the kickback. Cameron falls to the ground. Still. So still while silence rings in my ears.
The Chief turns back, bending to grab the bags before one last shot sounds. Blood spatters across the floor and walls, everywhere as he falls limp over the holdalls.
It’s the first sign of panic on Charles’ face when he realises he’s on his own. I lunge for the block of knives, only to be thrown back into the kitchen side.
“At the end of the day, you’re still my daughter,” he repeats what I told him in Spain, coming closer and closer. His long strides eat up every inch of distance I manage to put between us. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I didn’t want to kill you. But you’re poison. Just like your mother.”
“I’m no child of yours!” I spit, shuffling back before I fall to my arse painfully, and completely on purpose so I’m beside the wine rack.
Charles stands over me, his face blanketed in hatred.
“Your husband is right.” He takes a half step forward so that his toes touch mine. “You’re trouble.”
My hand hooks over the magnetic corkscrew that’s behind my back. Curling my fingers around it, I pull it off the stainless-steel rack at the end of the island.
Bingo! I take a deep breath as I try not to draw attention to my hand, holding eye contact.
Steps draw closer to the kitchen. I can’t wait anymore.
“You were fucking trouble from the moment you were conceived. It’s your fault she’s dead. Yours and Lucian’s. Grace thought she could throw me under the bus and live happily ever after with him.” His chuckle is sour, and the sound of my mother’s and daughter’s name from his lips makes me feel sick.
Brushing my hair back, he grasps it tight, pulling my head back painfully.
“If you hadn’t happened…we…she…” Disgust contorts his face as he spits in mine, right before slamming the side of my face into one of the cupboard doors.
Pulling me back by my hair, he’s about to do it again when I draw the corkscrew and stab him in his side. It doesn’t kill him, but it’s enough that he collapses to his knees in shock. And as he lunges for me with a distressed grunt, I kick him back with both feet.
I’m grappling for the Chief’s discarded gun when he gets up, turning to grab one of the knives on the island.
Arabella’s eyes meet mine over his shoulder as she gets there first. The guttural sound of the knife gutting him makes my heart pound faster, colliding with my relief at seeing that she’s okay.
“I’m your judge, and you’ve been found wanting,” she grits out through her tears as she pulls out the knife and drives it back in, pushing him against the side before letting him drop to stone floor.
I push to my knees as pain lances through my body. The pulsing haze in my head, throbbing as Arabella lowers herself and holds me to her, is almost paralysing.
“You’re okay.” A long exhale pushes from me.
“Cameron, he-he…”
Whether it’s adrenaline or fear, maybe pure unbridled relief, her heart is pounding so hard that I can hear it as she holds my face to her shoulder.
“He’s gone.” My words bring with them an overwhelming sense of guilt for all the wrongs I wished him in my thoughts before he was killed protecting me.
“Traitor,” Charles gurgles, blood dribbling from his mouth and down his chin.
Disdain flows freely through what’s left of me, chilling my blood. The buzzing in my ears rings louder and louder as I take the knife Arabella is still holding in her trembling hand.
Wide eyes. Gaping mouth. Charles shudders when I drag myself closer to him.
“I’m your jury.” My hot tears roll down my iced cheeks, dripping and dripping from my chin heavier and heavier like the day I found my mother. “I am your jury, and I find you guilty.”
The knife pierces through clothes and flesh. When it hits bone, it takes my entire force and body weight to dagger it into him. Into his heart.
If it’s the last thing I ever do, as my head swims with a fog that I can barely see through, I will make his heart bleed like he did mine. Arabella’s. And my mother’s.
