Winded, I can’t speak as I try to suck in air, fighting through the fog at the edges of my eyes.
Chapter 39
A scream rips through the woods, startling birds from the trees. The air seems to turn still with it, the entire forest around me holding its breath.
Niamh.
I set off on a run, my gun clutched in my hand. I don’t know if my brothers heard it, but I’m not waiting around for them. We split up to come in at all angles on the lodge, and I haven’t seen or heard from them in at least twenty minutes. We’re so close now.
I’m coming, sweetheart.
I pull to an abrupt stop when I see my father standing over a body, a body that looks entirely too still, curled up in a fetal position on the dirty, forest floor.
No!
Behind them, Oscar comes limping forward, clutching his arm as blood seeps through from a wound on his upper arm.
Jenson reaches down and yanks Niamh up from the ground, and relief washes through me when I realize she’s alive but hurt, and I’m just about to step forward when I see Silas reveal himself, gun aimed and pointed at my father.
“Let her go,” Silas growls. My father lifts a pocket knife to her throat and everything goes quiet.
“Not the son I was expecting,” Jenson fires back.
Silas smiles cruelly. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“Where is he?” My father asks.
Sinking back into the trees, I conceal myself, my steps light, soundless as I move closer, using the shadows thrown by the setting sun to keep myself hidden.
Moving closer, I catalogue Niamh’s injuries. Cuts on her forearms, bruises around her wrists and a thin trickle of blood that runs from her hairline, the fresh scar from her accident split back open. Tears track down her face, bottom lip wobbling.
“Don’t give them anything,” She wheezes. Silas flicks his eyes to her, moving over her much like mine just did, cataloguing what they have done to her.
Jenson yanks her back. “Shut the fuck up.” A fresh drop of blood slips down her throat. The grip on my gun tightens. I have to make the shot clean. The wrong angle will hurt her, and I’m not risking her life for his.
“Why do you want Roman?” Silas asks.
“You know why, son,” Jenson sneers. “We all know that ranch belongs to me. I’m here to get what I deserve.”
“You deserve to see nothing but the inside of a cell until the day you die,” Silas snaps back. “You’re not getting the ranch.”
“Not even for his precious wife’s life? You know I’ve done it before, I’ll do it again. I’ll slice her pretty little throat.”
My molars grind together, and everything in me pulls tight. I’m ready to spring, the rage pushing at its walls, wanting to get out. Oscar is watching the two of them, eyes pinging back and forth. I can see the moment he decides to try and take Silas on, but he doesn’t make it half a step.
“I wouldn’t,” Remy gets an arm around his throat.
“Well, two out of three,” Jenson chuckles. “Come on, Roman, we’re waiting for you.”
I don’t move an inch.
“Tick tock, son.” He laughs, “Or do you want to see her bleed? Maybe you’re more like me than you thought.”
That blade is pushed right up to throat, any shot other than to kill will have it slice through her flesh.
I get into position, lifting the gun to aim for his temple, but my foot steps on a branch and a loud snap echoes off the trees.
FUCK!
