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“Are you sure?” I check. “Shooting someone isn’t easy.”
She nods vehemently.
“I have to. I need to be able to move on from the childhood I suffered because of his actions.”
I hand Shelby my gun, quickly showing her how it works as my father tries to pull himself away from us.
“If I shoot him in the heart, will he die?”
I shake my head. “Not instantly. A head shot is the only way to do that. Mind you, if you do aim for his chest, it won’t do a lot of damage, given he doesn’t have a heart.”
“Not like you.” Shelby places her free hand over my heart.
I lean forward and kiss her before she turns and aims the gun at my father. Standing back, I give her this moment. She needs the closure.
“I hope you burn in hell,” she spits out as she fires the gun, and the bullet rips through my father’s chest.
I know he doesn’t have long left now, so I take the gun from her, and she stands at my side as I point it at my father’s head.
“I feel sorry for you. Power corrupted you, and you lost everything that was good about you—my mother, your friends, and now you’ve lost me. Go to hell, Father.” I pull the trigger and the bullet lodges in my father’s brain. It kills him instantly.
No last words, nothing. Just his death. Finally it’s all over.
Diego and his men storm in, but he lowers his weapon when he sees my father’s corpse.
“Take it,” I order, pointing at the body. “Show everyone my father’s reign is at an end. Shelby and I are in charge now.”
He nods in agreement, and we all watch as my father is unceremoniously dragged from the church. I know his body will be desecrated, stripped naked, and urinated on—every degrading act under the sun will be exacted on his corpse, but I don’t care. He deserves it. I never want to see him again. I won’t bury him. He can rot in the desert for the vultures to pick over.
The fight over, I go to put my gun back in its holster. Shelby grabs it, though, and points it straight at the priest.
“Woah, what are you doing?” I protest, holding my hands out in front of me and not making any fast movements.
“Marry us.” She waves the gun at the priest. “I was never married to his father. I didn’t consent.” She looks at me for reassurance.
“Do it,” I order.
Max grabs the priest, and pulling him up onto his feet, he tells him, “Unless you want to be shot in the other foot, I suggest you do as they ask.”
“I don’t have the paperwork,” the priest protests.
“I’ll sort that out later,” I inform him. “Shelby wants me as her husband now. And you are going to give her that.”
The priest no longer protests. Shelby and I stand, side by side, at the front of the chapel as our vows are read. When it comes to signing the marriage records, the page registering her forced marriage to my father is destroyed, and in place of a cross, she signs her name with a flourish. Her father’s name is written proudly in the space provided, but the place where my father’s name should be contains my mother’s. This isn’t a traditional wedding, and I know we’ll probably have to re-do it later. This is more symbolic than anything else right now.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the priest announces, and everyone gathered in the chapel cheers. I lean forward and kiss Shelby.
“I love you, Mrs. Armstrong-Jones. You’re mine forever.”
“Yours.” She kisses me back. “Mr. Armstrong-Jones.”
“We’re joined together forever,” I tell her. “This is a new beginning for both of us.” A spasm of pain shoots through me. “Sadly I think we’re going to have to wait to consummate this marriage. I think I might need to listen to Max for once and get some medical treatment. I’m sure I’ve got at least one broken rib.”
Shelby chuckles. “That’s all right. I’ll let you off this once. Besides, it’s not as though you need to get me pregnant in a hurry.”
I look at her confused.
“I’m late.” She moves her hand to her abdomen. “I think I’m already carrying our child.”
