I shake my head and toss the monitor at him, but he ducks out of the way. “It’s not true.”
“How does it feel knowing your little boyfriend was the match that lit my fire? Had he not killed my father, I never would have discovered this glorious hobby.”
Aven’s story flashes through my mind. “Aven killed your dad in Scotland.”
“That’s right, princess. Now you’re putting it together.” He motions toward the ax on the wall. “With that very ax, he ended my father’s life. And now I’m going to use it to end yours.”
I blink up at him. “If I’m really your daughter, how have you been watching my fucking sex streams? And you want to rape me? I don’t buy it.”
“What can I say? I’m a disgusting man with a disgusting taste for revenge.” He raises the gun and points it at my chest. “I’m finished talking, princess. You don’t have to believe me if you don’t want to, but you’re going to get what’s coming either way.”
“Wait!” I hold out my hands. “I have one more thing to say.”
Desmond rolls his eyes and drops the gun to his side, which is exactly what I hoped for. “Go on.”
“Kenny . . . bang, bang.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Aven
Agunshot rings out as I leap onto the metal platform from the gondola, and Kenny’s screeching spurs me forward. God bless that loud-ass bird. If it hadn’t been for him, I never would have spotted the walkway. Unfortunately, it was a moment too late, and I had to take the ride around again to get back here.
Quinn’s scream reaches my ears. I take off into a sprint, and when the walkway ends ahead, I use the momentum to leap to the other side. The metal groans when I land, and the platform cants to the right. I lose my footing. Rust scrapes away as I slide, and I claw for any sort of handhold. My hand wraps around the railing at the last second, and my boots dangle toward death. With all the strength in my upper body, I haul my feet back to the slanted platform and drag myself onto the next.
Darkness clouds my vision as I push forward, and another gunshot pierces the silence. I’m close enough to hear the sounds of a scuffle—boots scraping on wood; grunts and wing flaps. The gun fires again, and Quinn screams. If he shoots her, I’llkill Desmond before ending my own life. Not even Scotland is enough to live for if she isn’t there.
Desmond has been the barrier to all of my happiness. King and Jim were keeping quite the secret, but now it’s out in the open. Now I know that the only thing stopping me from returning to Scotland is also the only thing preventing Quinn from living her best life. It’s time to destroy the wall and bridge the fucking divide he’s created.
I shoulder the door and take it down in one hit. I stumble forward and spot Desmond and Quinn on the ground, fighting over the gun. Kenny flies past and zips out the door, and it’s for the best. He doesn’t like loud noises, and it’s about to get very loud in here.
There’s no time to see if Quinn is shot. She and Desmond both have their hands on the weapon, and it’s a dangerous game they’re playing. The barrel shifts position, moving from her head to his, but she’s getting weak.
I lunge forward and bring my heel down on Desmond’s ribs. He grunts and recoils, but he doesn’t loosen his grip on the gun. Quinn leans forward and sinks her teeth into his clenched fist, and the gun fires again.
The pain is immediate. Heat explodes in my right side, and I grunt and clench my teeth to stop from screaming. Glancing down, I spy a small hole in my shirt. There’s very little blood when I press my fingers to the wound, though the sharp, searing, ripping ache damn near causes me to faint.
No matter. Jim always said the simulator predicted I would die to save the girl, and I’m inclined to prove it right. So long as she lives, I can die happy.
I bring my leg down on Desmond’s ribs again, and something cracks. His hands finally release the gun, and Quinn grabs it and scrambles backward on her ass while keeping the barrel leveled on his head.
“Don’t you fucking move, asshole!” she screams.
I rush to her side and drop to my knees. “Lass...are you hurt?”
The gun quivers in her hands, but her resolve is steady as she shakes her head. “He says he’s my father. Is it true?”
I place my hand over the gun and try to lower it, but she shakes me off.
“Is it fucking true?” she screams. She keeps the gun and her fiery green gaze locked on her target.
“Lass . . .”
Quinn pulls the trigger, but the gun just clicks. It’s either jammed or empty. She screams and tosses it aside, and Desmond continues writhing and gripping his cracked ribs as he fights for air.
I pull her into my arms as she begins to cry.
“Tell me it isn’t true. He isn’t my father. I was supposed to have found my family, Aven. I was supposed to be where I belong.” She cries harder, and I wish I could tell her it’s all a lie. But it’s not.
