Dad groans, and I notice too late that he’s left his Glock on the floor, and is now holding a shard of glass in his hand instead. Before I can open my mouth to warn Dorran, Dad is already raising his arm to slash the shard across Dorran’s face.
The latter lets go of a surprised sound as he moves away from my father, and when he touches his hand to his right cheek before pulling it away, I notice that it’s stained with blood.
“Ledge!” Jayce reaches Dorran, and while he’s busy trying to move Dorran away from my dad, the latter raises his arms and brings the pointed edge of the shard against the side of Jayce’s neck.
“No!” I scream, then stumble to my feet.
This can’t be happening right now. This can’t… It can’t.
“Jay, no!” Alex rushes towards his husband, and Jayce falls onto him. He’s gurgling blood whilst cupping his wound, and his wide, shocked eyes are glazed. He grabs for Dorran, who has gone so pale that I’m scared he’ll pass out.
“Jay…” He kneels at his side and takes his free hand. “Brother.”
Varsha and I join them, and Jayce’s eyes land on me.
“Look after him,” he mouths. “Please.”
I shake my head, and when my tears blur my vision, I swipe at them and move close to him.
“You’ll be here to do it yourself, you fucking hear me?” I tell him. “I’ve already lost one friend today. I can’t lose another.”
Dorran is silent as he stares at Jayce. There’s no expression on his face, but his cheeks are wet with tears. A few of them fall over his bleeding cut, but he doesn’t flinch.
Jayce gasps, and the hold he has on his neck loosens. A second later, his arm goes slack, and then his shoulders. His eyelids flutter shut, and his chest stops moving.
“No…” Alex whispers. His breathing is heavy as he jerks his husband. “Fucking no, goddamn it!” He’s crying now, and so are Varsha and I. But Dorran – he continues to stare at Jayce.
How can a normal, regular day turn into something so catastrophically wrong? How can you have everything you wanted in one moment, and then have it taken from you in the next? It doesn’t make sense.
It doesn’t fucking makesense.
“Jay.” Alex jerks him again, then touches his forehead to Jayce’s as he cries harder. “Babe, please don’t do this to me. Jay… Baby…”
Varsha wraps an arm around him and holds him close, all the while keeping one of her hands on Jayce’s slumped shoulder.
Dad laughs. He’s out of breath, but still, he laughs. “Martyrs, thesefools.” He laughs more, then gestures at Mave. “They died protecting those who shouldn’t be alive in the first place.”
Anger boils in me. So much so that all I can see is his smug face, and how I want to wipe the look of victory off it.
I touch Dorran’s thigh, but he remains as is. So, I slip the thing I want from him, from the front pocket of his jeans, and then let him be. My dress tangles with my ankles as I get to my feet, but I manage not to fall. My head is so heavy that I want to sit back down, but I can’t – not right now. Instead, I make my way to my dad while trying to maintain my balance, and the moment he sees me, he stops laughing.
“Before you decide to do something idiotic, know that I have a dozen guards in here that are ready to tear you apart where you stand,” he threatens, then grins. “And anyone who tries to save you.”
A snort leaves me, and his amusement vanishes. “You really think these men will defend you after you just killed the man they respected and followed?” I blink against the sting in my eyes. “If anything, I’d wager they’ll be more than willing to helpmein tearingyouapart.”
He glances around us, and what he sees makes him go a little pale.
“You think you’re so smart and powerful, don’t you?” I say to him. “You think that by killing those who meant the most to Dorran and I, you’ve proven a fucking point?” I step closer to him, knowing he won’t answer me. “But all you’ve done,Dad, is written your own death sentence.”
He hums. “Have I?” He chuckles, then ends up wincing and grabbing his stomach. “And who, exactly, will carry out this sentence of mine?”
“I’msoglad you asked,” I tell him, then flick open Dorran’s switchblade.
Dad’s gaze falls to the weapon in my hand, then comes up to meet mine. Something shifts in him, and despite it being drastic, I can’t put a finger on what it is, exactly.
“Do it, then; what the hell are you waiting for, daughter?” There’s a readiness in him, in his posture. It’s like he was expecting this to happen, or more like, hewantedthis to happen.
A cry rips out of me as I stab the switchblade right in the middle of his chest.
