He waves his gun at me, and I sigh defeatedly. He’s going to make me no matter what I say. I’m really fucking sick of him and his fucking gun. I trudge out of the office, and when we get to the front of the house, I need to decide which wing to take him to. The boys are all gone, and hopefully Jacinta is smart enough not to be in there, so I choose their wing.
I walk slowly, taking him through the door to our wing. When I look around the entertainment area, I breathe a sigh of relief that she’s not here, but Peter’s eyes light up when he sees her bookcase.
“Naughty Harlow, you didn't tell me there was another bookcase here.” He pushes me forward. My hands are hidden, so I start using the letter opener to saw away at my cable ties.
“It’s full of Jacinta's smutty books. I very much doubt Dad would hide it here,” I tell him, hoping to keep him distracted.
He pulls out a book and frowns, though I chuckle when I glance to see what he’s holding. It’s an MM omegaverse with two sexy man chests on the front. He throws it on the floor in disgust and continues to search.
Finally, I feel the plastic of the cable ties give before they drop away to the floor. I’m free, and I have a weapon in my hand. The anger that had been slowly bubbling away comes to a rolling boil, and I see red. I’m not going to wait and see if I get another chance to act. He’s already killed someone I love. I won’t take the risk that anyone else comes to harm.
I pull my arm back over my head, letter opener at the ready, but just as I’m about to stab him, the door bursts open, and men with guns come pouring into the room. Peter whirls around, his gun pointing at them, so I lunge. A battle cry worthy of a valkyrie comes from my mouth as I plunge the letter opener into the side of his neck. A strangled scream is torn from his as he drops his gun and reaches for his neck, and when I yank the letter opener back out, I’m covered in blood spray. There’s shouting and movement, but I have tunnel vision. I’m not about to let this man get away, so I stab again, screaming my fury, but an arm around my waist pulls me away.
I try to lash out at them until I recognize the uniform, managing to stop the downward movement just in time. I’m dragged away as Peter is surrounded by agents. There’s shouting about medics and an ambulance, but I can tell by the way the blood is pumping and the amount of it covering the pale blue carpets that it’s not going to make it on time—I hit his carotid artery. Immense satisfaction fills me as I watch the motherfucker bleed out. I’m passed from one set of arms to another, but I don't take my eyes off of him.
I want to watch him take his last breath, then I want to spit on his dead body.
Suddenly, I remember Patricia, and I gasp, struggling to get away from the arms holding me. “There's another one! She’s in Dad’s office,” I shout, and the person holding onto me tightens his arms.
“Harlow, honey, it’s okay. They already got her.” Dad’s voice finally penetrates my panic, and I slump in relief, knowing that I’m safe. The tears I had been holding back for so long start flowing, and I spin around in my dad’s arms and hold him tight.
“Jaxon,” I sob as he leads me away from Peter and the people trying to save him.
“What about Jaxon?” Jacinta asks, coming out of Dad’s wing of the house, followed by Nana and Poppy. They all crowd around me as agents bring out a struggling Patricia. She’s shouting and cursing, but the two agents have her under control.
As they pass us, I pull away from Dad and step in front of them. Cocking my fist back, I punch her square in the nose. The agents don’t even stop me. Her head flies back on the impact, and I feel one of my knuckles collapse, sending pain shooting up my arm, but I refuse to show this woman any weakness. “I hope you end up some big butch woman’s bitch when you get to prison, or even better, I hope you get shivved by a sharpened toothbrush and bleed to death all alone. It’s what you deserve.”
“You mean like your boyfriend did.” She gives me a ghastly smile, the blood from her nose staining her teeth and making her look even more crazy than she is. The agents continue on out to a waiting car while she cackles madly the whole way. When I look back at my family, Poppy has his arms around Jacinta, and she’s looking at me like she can’t believe what she just heard.
“Tell me she’s talking about when Holden was shot. Please, Harlow!” she begs, but of course I can’t, and she sees it in my eyes.
Poppy tightens his arms as she starts to struggle and scream. “Where is he? Where’s my brother?” Both Nana and Dad are looking to me for information. I’m just about to tell them when one of the agents comes out of the room where Peter was, phone to his ear.
“Okay, Thomas, I’ll let them know. Thank you.”
“What did he say, Jake?” Dad demands.
“The guys checked out the cabin that was listed as Patricia’s. It was obviously empty except they did find Jaxon.” Jake looks at me with sympathy in his eyes before his gaze moves back to Jacinta. Tears are streaming down her face much like mine.
“He had been shot and was unconscious and unresponsive, but they did find a pulse. They flew him to the closest hospital, and he’s in surgery. That’s all they could tell me right now. They’re currently waiting in Oliver’s room.”
“He’s alive? I thought for sure he was dead. He tackled Peter, and the gun went off. There was so much blood!” I’m sobbing so hard the words are hard to understand. Jacinta breaks away from Poppy and runs to me. I brace for a hit, but she throws her arms around me and sobs with me instead.
“Oliver?” Nana asks.
“He donated blood on the trip in the chopper. He’s currently recovering with a bag of saline and some juice. He got a bit lightheaded toward the end,” Jake reports, and for the first time since I left Jaxon lying in a pool of blood, I have hope.
“Well, what are we waiting for? Jake, I’ll leave you here. We have somewhere we need to be,” Dad tells the agent, who says he’ll speak to us when we’ve dealt with Jaxon.
Jacinta and I are bustled out the door by Dad and our grandparents, and before we know it, we’re flying down the freeway in the direction of the hospital they’re at. I’m sure the hospital staff are going to thinkIneed treatment, what with Peter’s blood splashed all over me. Ever prepared, Nana calmly passes me a couple of wet wipes from the glove box.
“It’s not much, but it might help.”
I wince when I reach out to grab one. The knuckles on my right hand are not feeling good at all. Maybe I will need them to look me over.
“I am so sorry,” I say to Jazzy. She hasn't let go of my other hand since we got shoved into the back seat of the SUV, which is a positive sign, but I’m still feeling worried. Dad is driving like a bat out of hell while Poppy and Nana offer directions. I think they're deliberately leaving us alone for the moment.
“Harlow, none of this is your fault. If we have to blame anyone, let’s blame my biological grandpa. Seems to me that he was an evil fuckwit. It’s because of him all of this is in play.”
