“Sorry about this, Chris,” his co-captain’s voice is an unfamiliar indifference—a dull apathy in his grey eyes.
“It’s just how the world works.”
Before he can pull the trigger, Beau lunges for Everett, sinking sharp teeth into the skin of his hand.
Everett cries out as the gun clatters to the ground, and the sound is the only thing breaking Christian out of his trance, wrenching him out of the hands of the nightmare.
He leaps forward and his fist connects powerfully with Everett’s cheek. His rage is an explosion of red behind his eyes; it is a void suddenly packed too tightly with hatred. With frustration and disgust and suffering.
Yet even then, he can find nothing to say. No curses or insults or raving.
His fist connects again with Everett’s jaw. Again. Again.
Until his vision blurs.
Until it drowns the red behind his eyes and threatens to suffocate him with his grief.
Because he doesn’t see the point anymore.
Within the span of mere moments… he has lost everything.
A black cat screeches, and Christian knows it is to warn him—knows because it has warned him so many times before… but still, he barely hears it.
He is too slow—when he turns, Geoffrey Nash is in the doorway, a tall man with a lean body and a twisted smile on his face. The smile of a demon moments before reaping its rewards.
The shot echoes through the air like an explosion of its own and the world goes still.
Pain flares into Christian’s nerves like liquid fire, spilling blood from his lips…
And when he looks down, he sees it there.
A fist-sized hole in his torso.
He falls to his knees with a joyless laugh, but not before another shot echoes through the air, this time from behind.
Two shots in his back.
By the man he thought he could trust the most.
By the time his head hits the floor, he feels no pain. By the time his head touches the cold marble, the loss of his men no longer feels like agony pulsing through his heart, and the hole in his chest no longer feels like liquid fire.
Because by the time his head hits the floor, Christian Adler is already dead.
“You really saved my ass this time,” Geoffrey hands his shotgun to his closest servant with a wry smile, and Everett smiles easily.
“I’m sure you’ve seen stuff like this all the time in our line of work.”
“More times than you think,” he laughs humourlessly, “I was lucky there was a man like you to get me out of this situation easily.” He opens his phone with his fingerprint and after a few swipes and taps, he locks it and puts it down on the kitchen table.
“Your money’s been sent. Twenty million, as we agreed. Five for each head. As you suggested, I’ll be leaving Portland today.” He pushes a burner phone across the counter, “If the family still insists on following me, you can use this to keep me updated on their whereabouts. I can give you another ten easily in exchange.”
“I appreciate your business.” Everett takes a swig from his drink, feeling the burn at the back of his throat.
“What I don’t understand,” Geoffrey watches him curiously, “is if you only wanted money, all of this—” he waved his hand in the direction of the living room, wrinkling his nose, “—dramacould have been avoided. Why get rid of them?”
Everett is quiet as he takes another sip of his glass, “Because they’re more skilled than I am. If I’m to move up in rank with the Taiga family, I can’t be outshined by those kids.”
“I don’t follow.”
