“No,” I murmured, my breath brushing her cheek, stirring strands of her hair. I pushed off her, rolling to the side. “No, little raven. You didn’t shoot him.”
“But my gun went off.” She stared at her shaking hands as if they were strangers. The weapon in question had fallen a few feet away from where we hit the ground. “I pulled the trigger. I felt the recoil. I?—”
“It hit a window,” I said. She might not be happy she’d missed, but at least her conscience was clean. Mine, on the other hand…
I reached across the gravel path, picking up my gun with every fucking intention of finishing this.
“Then why—why is he bleeding?” she whispered from where she sat up, eyes fixed ahead, her breath faltering, hitching on a sob she was trying to swallow.
My head snapped up, neck muscles protesting the quick motion.What the fuck?
Rusty staggered backward on the porch, his hands pressing to his chest, fingers splayed wide, trying to hold something in that wouldn’t stay. A dark stain spread across the front of his cream Henley, blooming outward so fast it soaked through the fabric in seconds. His face went slack, eyes widening with shock and confusion. His mouth opened, closed, and opened again, but no words came out. His knees buckled, joints giving way all at once, and he slammed into the wooden boards with a dull, heavy thud.
Carson’s voice cut through the haze, answering Kaylor’s lingering question. “It wasn’t your shot.”
“Dad!” Jesse’s scream ripped over the clearing as he lurched forward, legs tangling beneath him in his haste. He caught himself on his hands and scrambled across the porch, reaching the man who’d ruined all our lives.
I shoved to my feet and moved to help Kaylor up, keeping one arm clamped around her waist. I hauled her upright in a smooth motion, locking her against my side and tucking her into the shelter of my body. She was shaking, violent tremors running through her frame like aftershocks. Hell, maybe I was too. My hands weren’t exactly steady, but I needed her close. Needed her safe. Needed to feel her breathing against me.
My gaze lifted slowly, dragging upward, and locked on my father standing a few feet behind where Rusty had been, a gun in his hand. Smoke curled from the barrel in lazy spirals, dissipating into the night air. I hadn’t seen the gun until now, hadn’t even seen him move or draw, let alone fire.
He’d shot Rusty.
Holy shit.
He’d shot him clean through the back, the angle and placement perfect, the bullet going straight into the heart. Rusty’s breath rattled in his chest, a wet, gurgling sound. It caught, stuttered, then stopped altogether. His body pitched forward with deadweight momentum, falling face-first. Jesse managed to catch him before he hit the dirt, but it was too late. There was nothing he could do. Rusty’s arms splayed out at odd angles, blood beginning to pool beneath him.
Silence swallowed the clearing.
“What the hell have you done?” Raine demanded of our father. He stepped forward, gun still raised but wavering now, uncertain where to point it.
My father didn’t show any hint of emotion on his face. His expression remained carved from stone. “Keeping my word,” he stated simply as his eyes flicked to Kaylor for a fraction, and it clicked. I understood with horrifying clarity. The deal he made with my girlfriend had been signed in blood—Rusty’s fucking blood.
Kaylor stiffened in my arms, understanding dawning at what happened, at the cost she paid for Rusty’s life.
Unfortunately, now wasn’t the moment to unpack how fucked up this situation was. I couldn’t think about that. Not while my nerves were still screaming, adrenaline flooding my system. Not while the threat might not be finished.
I scanned the tree line, head swiveling, eyes searching the darkness. “We’re not clear. There could be shooters in the woods.”
“No,” my father said calmly, finally lowering his weapon. He ejected the magazine, checked the chamber, then tucked the gun at his back. “There aren’t.”
“You don’t know that,” I snapped, unwilling to risk Kaylor’s life without certainty.
He gave a humorless half smile, one corner of his mouth lifting without warmth. “I do. Rusty was bluffing. There was no one else. He was too arrogant to admit how few allies he had left.” My father walked to the porch steps, staring down at Rusty’s lifeless form cradled in Jesse’s lap. “He trusted me. That was his final mistake.”
Jesse let out a broken half snarl, half sob, something animal and wounded. He leaned over his father’s body, shoulders shaking, hands hovering but not quite touching, as if he didn’t know whether to mourn or rage.
Carson sank against his car, his shoulders sagging. “Should we call the police?” he asked, and the question drew several glares from my brothers.
“Is he serious?” Maddox muttered, sweeping a hand through his hair.
And Kaylor…
She pressed closer to my side, her fingers clutching my hoodie, twisting the fabric.
I tightened my grip on her, pulling her fully into me, wrapping both arms around her now. Rusty was finally dead. I should be ecstatic that he could never hurt her again; he could never take whatwas mine, but instead, I was apprehensive. I couldn’t shake the feeling that she had traded one evil for another.
She owed my father a debt, and it terrified me.
