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Flynn hissed. He reached up, pressing the balled-up shirt against the wound. He tried to sit up.
Waving me off, he said, “I’m okay. Just hit my head.”
I eased him upright, and he grasped my bicep, leaning around me. “Fuck,” he breathed, his voice a panicked whisper.
Ry was on his back, clutching at himself.
Oh God, no. Fuck. Had he been shot in the throat?
Tristan was shirtless, applying pressure to the wound. I still couldn’t tell where he’d been hit.
Ry was struggling underneath him.
“Ry,” I gasped, tears springing to my eyes.
Fuck.
A gunshot rang out. “You fucking cunt bitch. That’s for Ry.”
I stilled, my gaze snapping up to Zali.
She gripped my gun in both hands. It was aimed directly at Rosa.
Rosa touched her chest and lifted her blood-soaked hand to her face.
“You shot me?” she breathed as she stumbled back.
Zali adjusted her aim.
I jumped up, scrambling over to her.
Two shots were enough to disarm her.
I could still get Rosa onto the plane.
I could still get her home and into custody.
I could make her pay for what she did.
But before I could reach Zali, another shot rang out.
“That’s for Dad.”
A second direct hit to her chest.
A bloom of blood soaked the white satin slipdress Rosa was wearing.
No. No, no, no. No more. “Zali,” I cried, begging her to stop. Begging her not to fire again. Her mother couldn’t survive it.
Zali would be responsible. She would have to live with the knowledge that she’d killed her.
Rosa fell back, each breath a wet rasp. Blood oozed from her mouth with every exhale.
Zali stepped forward, squaring her aim at her mother’s head.
“No,” I screamed, scrambling over the couch to get to her. Need drove me to protect Zali. To stop her from making a mistake that would change the direction of her life.
“I watched him die. I watched the light fade from his eyes as he bled out,” Rosa gurgled, a deathbed confession.
