“You.” Gene waved the gun in the kid’s direction, sending Heavenly’s heart jumping into her throat. “Get your ass off the couch.”
Hudson’s head snapped up, his jaw tight.
“Close those fucking drapes.” Gene pointed to the curtains at the front of the house.
Slowly, Hudson stood, fists clenched at his sides. His face was pale, but his eyes blazed with barely contained fury.
“Move!” Gene barked.
Hudson crossed to the front windows, took a regretful last glance outside, then yanked the drapes closed. As he did, the room fell into shadow—heavy, oppressive, suffocating. Everything felt smaller. Scarier.
Fear tightened Heavenly’s chest. She felt trapped, as if Gene was sealing them inside a tomb of his making.
“Good.” Gene nodded in approval. “We can’t let Seth have help, so take Beck and Carl to the basement.”
Hudson’s eyes widened. “What?”
“You heard me, you little shit. Lock them in. And grab their phones while you’re at it. Bring those to me.”
“That door only locks from the inside,” Hudson pointed out.
“Then wedge a fucking chair under the knob. And stop being a pain in the ass like your dad.”
Hudson hesitated, anger rolling off him in waves. His fists opened and closed. His breathing came fast and hard.
Was he considering taking on Gene?
Horror rolled through Heavenly. She shook her head in warning, not even trying to be subtle.
Gene saw. His eyes narrowed, then he swung the gun toward Heavenly. “Step it up, kid. Or she’ll be the first to die.”
He wasn’t kidding. His finger on the trigger, steady and ready, told Heavenly that.
“And you’ll be second, kid,” Gene promised, his voice cold. “Your choice.”
Hudson’s face twisted with fury and helplessness. Just when she worried he might take the bullet and go down fighting, Hudson slumped, his shoulders sagging in defeat. His jaw clenched so hard, she saw the muscle tick.
Beck, who sat slumped against the wall, pasty and sweating, groaned as he pressed his palm against his wound. His breathing shallowed. Blood soaked through his shirt, dripping onto the floor.
Worry burned Heavenly’s throat. Even in the shadows, she could see the fury in Beck’s eyes—the rage at being incapacitated and forced to leave her to Gene’s dubious mercy.
Her throat ached with words she didn’t dare speak, not that Beck would believe that she was fine, anyway.
Face full of apology, Hudson crouched beside Beck and hauled him to his feet. Her brave surgeon grunted, pain etched deep into every line of his face as he wrapped his good arm around Hudson’s shoulders and struggled to stand.
Together, they made their way to Carl, who still lay motionless on the floor, blood matting his hair. Since he’d fallen, he hadn’t made a sound. Hadn’t moved. Was he even breathing?
Hudson leaned Beck against the opening to the kitchen. Then, with a grunt, he grabbed Carl under the arms and dragged him toward the basement door. Beck stumbled alongside, every movement making him wince. Making him bleed faster.
Terror filled Heavenly as she and Beck exchanged one last glance before he disappeared around the corner. With her heart in her eyes, she silently told him that she loved him. That if this was the end, he’d been everything to her.
Beck paused, his eyes locked on hers. Desperate. Anguished.
He mouthed something. She couldn’t hear it, but she knew.
I love you.
Tears burned her eyes. She blinked them back, refusing to let Gene see her break as she mouthed the same words to him.
