“How about we both put down the guns, Hamish?” I say, keeping my voice steady.
“Aye, right,” he sneers, his eyes flicking to the memorial. “Look at that. A wee shrine to yer poor dead mammie.” His boot—heavy, steel-toed—kicks the cross hard, knocking it loose in the dirt.“Lurlene was a kind soul, though, wasn’t she? Soft. Not like mine.” He leans in closer, grin twisted. “My mammie was a right fuckin’ cunt.”
I keep my hands low, nonthreatening. “You win, Hamish. I’m here. You’ve got me. If this is about your business, I’ll walk away. Whatever you’re worried about, I’ll leave it. Just say the word.” I’m praying to Christ he doesn’t already know what Strike’s done—torn his whole empire to shreds with a few keystrokes.
Hamish steps forward, sneering. “Business? Nah, I don’t give a shite about that anymore. Got more money than God himself, and a helluva lot more than you’ll ever sniff at, brother. Petrov’s girls? They’ll all be mine soon enough. I’m untouchable.”
“Then what do you want, since you’re raised from the dead?” I ask again, my mind still spinning. Hamish. He was burnt to a crisp when he smashed his fancy Porsche into an underpass in Bruges, or so the police said. Now I’m wondering who the poor charred sod in the car actually was. There were remains. I double-checked with the authorities.
Hamish tilts his head, a wicked smile curling his lips. “Mrs. Collins,” he says.
“What about her? I have no idea where she is.”
“Nah.” He chuckles, low and cruel. “That’s what’s gnawing at you, eh? Who it was in that car if it wasn’t me. It was Mrs. Collins.” His sneer widens. “Don’t fash yerself, brother. The old bitch deserved it.”
I don’t say a word. Can’t. Because he’s not wrong. Had I known where she was, I would have killed her myself.
Hamish grins. “Aye, you always were an open book, weren’t you? That’s why the lasses fawned over you. Such a sweet lad, all moony-eyed and soft. And that face. Look at you, still so fuckin’ handsome. Isn’t he handsome, Josie-Jo?” His grin twists,mocking. “I’ll show you a picture sometime—I was almost as good-looking as Sing-Song, once upon a time.”
I keep my jaw clenched tight. I don’t trust myself to glance at Josie; her life hangs on me keeping my focus, sticking to my training. But I can feel her eyes on me—burning holes on the side of my skull. I wish I could give her a signal—let her know I’ll die before I let my brother hurt her. But right now, words will just get us both killed.
Should have watched von Graf—Hamish—tumble off that bloody ski mountain when I had the chance. Da was right about one thing—my goddamn moral compass always fucks me in the end.
I force a laugh, trying to shift the tension, hoping to throw him off-balance. “Christ, Hamish, I can’t believe you’re alive,” I say. “Back from the dead. It’s madness, you standing right here in front of me after all these years. Do you sleep in Da’s old room now?”
“Fuck no,” says Hamish. “I hated every second I breathed in this shitehole, but, aye, we had our moments, didn’t we? Funny how it feels so natural, being here together, you and me. That’s why I finally dragged you back. Remember when we used to roll down the hills behind the barn, laughing like eejits?”
I let out a breath, lean into my accent, which tumbles out of my mouth naturally. As if it’s attached to the land itself. “Aye, I remember. That’s how I broke my arm, and Da told me to man up while I was just lying there, bawling like a wee bairn. Still aches when the rain comes.”
Hamish chuckles. “Da was a right bastard. Toughen up or get tossed aside, that was his way. Reckon that’s the one thing we both learned, eh?”
“What happens if I put down my gun, Hamish?” I ask, taking a small step closer, keeping my eyes on his. He won’t shoot Josieas long as I’ve got his attention. I crouch down slowly, place my gun down on the ground right in front of him, and stand to hold up my hands in surrender. “Let the lass go sit over there while we talk. You’re right, Hamish. I’m a pussy. I can’t shoot you, my brother. I just need her for my prototype.”
Hamish cocks his head, a flicker of something in his eye as he mulls it over, toying with the idea. “You fancy her, Axe. I can see it. I made this deal with SynthoTech knowing it would all lead to this standoff with you. But now?” Hamish’s tone softens, almost sickeningly tender. “I love her. Aye, I have from the second I laid eyes on her. And the problem with you is that you think just ’cause you’re the baby—because you’re the good one—she should prefer your company, just like every other woman that’s stepped foot on this island. But not this time. She…she’s different. This one is mine. It wasn’t my original plan, but you know what they say, best laid plans and all that.”
“Well,” I say, playing along, “I need this launch. She’s my ticket, Ham. We’re so close. I just need to do a little more testing with Gemini and then we’re finished. Don’t make me start over.” I’m feeding him just enough of the truth to keep him distracted and distance myself from Josie emotionally, hoping he buys it. My real game is only about getting Josie out of this alive. I’d give away SynthoTech—fuck, I’d let him shoot me—if I thought it would keep her safe.
Hamish’s voice is soft. “Josie’s the one thing you’ve got to let go of, brother. You’ve taken enough from her already, haven’t you? She’s what I want. I’m not sharing her with lonely lads across the world.”
I let out a slow breath. I wish Hamish’s feelings gave me even a modicum of comfort. If he loves Josie, surely he wouldn’t shoot her. But there’s only a twisted logic with men like him. No doubt,he’d rather see his woman die than be with anyone else. “Aye, Hamish,” I say, playing along as steady as I can manage. “You’re right. She’s not mine to keep. Never was. We’ll rework She’s the One, scrap Gemini, and start with a new avatar. We’ve collected plenty of other girls’ data through the years. No problem.”
Hamish nods slowly, his grip on the gun loosening just a bit, the barrel drooping slightly toward me. His hesitation is all I need. My heart pounds in my chest as I let myself risk a quick glance at Josie. Her wild hair catches and curls in the Scottish mist, her green eyes are wide but fierce. My brave girl. I hope to God she understands the unspoken message in my look—back away. Now. If she’s the last thing I see in this life, I’ll go in peace.
Hamish’s gaze wavers, just for a moment.
Then, without warning, Josie moves. Fast. She lunges forward, sinking her teeth into Hamish’s hand with a savage growl. He yelps in pain and surprise as she drops from his slackened grip and skitters a few yards away—I’m already moving at Hamish, charging forward like a bullet. Time slows as I close the distance, adrenaline pumping through my veins. The axe—it’s in my hands before I even realize I’ve grabbed for it. Hamish is still reeling from Josie’s bite when I swing the axe, hard and precise. The blade sinks deep through his flesh, crunches into bone—thwack!—before cutting clean through. A sick, wet pop follows as the severed hand drops to the ground, fingers twitching.
Hamish’s scream rips and echoes off the cliffs before his brain even catches up to the pain. He stumbles backward, eyes wide with shock. Blood sprays from the gaping stump, painting his clothes, spattering the rocks.
“Brother…” he gasps, near the cliff’s edge, his eyes wide with disbelief.
I look at that face—stretched tight and unnatural, like hethought he could carve away time itself with a fucking scalpel. All those surgeries, all those potions. “Death has a way of catching up to us, doesn’t it, brother?” I say. “And it looks like today it wants to collect.” I give him a cold smile, walking toward him at the edge of the cliff. And with a swift kick to his stomach, I send him slipping on the slick rocks.
There’s a sudden, sickening lurch, and gravity does the rest. He’s gone.
I hear Hamish’s body crashing against the rocks, then tumbling down the jagged face of the cliff, the dull meaty thud as he lands…somewhere.
I peer over the precipice, the salty wind stinging my face.
