I feel my nostrils flare as anger rises in me, my breathing becoming rapid. All I want to do is wrap my hands around her old ass neck, watch her face as I squeeze the life out of her. For her, I’d rearrange my rules and kill a woman. For my woman, I’ll throw it out the fucking window. “Just like Briggs was stupid to think he could keep doing what he was doing. And you see where that got him.” My words are hard to get out from the pressure on my neck, but I can tell by the look on her face that she understood every fucking word.
She stands, smoothing her nonexistent wrinkles with her hands, places her foot on my chest where Rowan’s name is freshly tattooed, and presses her heel down with all her might.
Wincing, I fix my face, not allowing her any joy from the pain it’s causing.
She’s weak; her body shakes as she tries to apply more pressure. My lips slowly spread wide, smiling up at her. “You better.” Coughing. “Hope you kill me,” I declare, muffled. Aiden looks so smug, thinking he runs shit.Joke’s on you motherfucker.
I have one chance to do this right. My primary concern is Aiden, getting him down, and then Clare. Inching my hand under my hoodie to my shoulder holster. My eyes never leave Clair; when in the blink of an eye, I have my other gun drawn, and the shot ricochets off the walls, piercing our ears. Aiden’s face is one of pure shock as he falls to the floor. Clare screams, and over her wailing, I can hear gunfire and shouting from outside the bedroom in the distance.
With my other hand, I grab Clare’s ankle, yanking. Ripping a scream from her, as she falls in a heap on the marble floor. Righting myself, limping to her, she hurriedly tries to scoot away from me, but gets nowhere, bumping into the bathtub.
Her hands come up to cover her face. “Who has the upper hand now, Mrs. Briggs?” I use my gun to spread her hands, which are adorned with diamond rings. Way too many for a normal person’s taste. Cocking my head, I run the barrel of my gun up her lips. “Open that mouth.”
Shaking, she closes her eyes, tightening her thin lips, thinking that it will keep my gun out of her mouth, like she has an option.
“Open your fucking mouth!” I scream down at her. Her whole body jumps. “Just like my girl didn’t get a say, you won’t either. You like to take others’ will away, I’m going to take yours!” Pushing the barrel hard against her lips, she moans out, giving me the perfect opportunity to push it into her mouth. I do with so much force; I hear the metal clank against her teeth;she screams in pain. Knowing I just broke it. “Why couldn’t you leave well enough alone?” Crouching down to be eye level with her. “Don’t worry, Clare, you’ll be with your husband real soon.”
She squeezes her eyes shut, forcing her tears to trail down her wrinkled skin. No sympathy rolls through my body for her. I want her to be frightened, just like Rowan was. I look at her and see nothing. The only reason she’s showing any emotion is for herself. Not for anything else. She doesn’t want to die. People like her and Briggs think that they’re invincible until they're finally faced with their mortality. Something their money can’t buy, nor get them out of.
Sounds filter through the bathroom before I hear voices, “Luca!” It’s Thomas, panic laced in his words.
“In here! Guy’s there’s another one somewhere,” I call out, needing them on high alert.
“Not anymore,” Weeks informs me as he runs into the bathroom, tailing Thomas. Veering my gaze back to Clare, her eyes are wide open. Her blue eye color is popping from the redness of her tears. I smirk at her.
“Holy shit,” Weeks blurts out when he sees who’s in front of me. “How?”
I laugh. “This was their master plan.” I wave my free hand around and then point to a lifeless Aiden. “Say hi to Clare's nephew.”
Thomas stands above me. “Goddamn. It never ends.”
“Oh, it’s fixing to now.” I shove my gun farther into Clare's mouth. A whine escapes muffled around it.
I feel a hand on my shoulder. “Brother, are you sure?”
Knowing exactly what Weeks is asking, I nod my head. “I’ll choose my woman any day over filth like her.” No words I’ve spoken have ever been truer. Leaving Clare alive will ultimately put Rowan at risk. And that isn’t happening.
I stand up, the gun never leaving her mouth. “Clare, you’re going to stand up and step into this bathtub.”
Her eyebrows rise. And I smile, because at that moment, I know I won’t have her blood on my hands.
“Keep your guns on her. Any move, shoot her,” I instruct the guys.
Clare stands, eyes scanning us three as she feels for the lip of the tub, stepping over it backward, ever so slowly, scared I’ll pull the trigger.
“Lay down.”
Confusion mars her face, but she does what she’s told. Immersing her body in the old tub of water. She shakes as she lowers herself.
“You’re going to take this gun and do not fucking remove it from your mouth. And Clare, move, and they’ll shoot you. Also, you fuck up and I promise you, I’ll kill Catherine.” Her body jerks when I mention her name, knowing I just found her sweet spot.
Her shaking hands reach up, grabbing the gun handle, both hands enclosing around it.
“We should have some fun tonight.” I look to Weeks. “I’m sure we can find something fun to do with Cat. I bet she purrs really loud.”
Clare cries around the barrel of the gun.
“Want to save your daughter, Clare? Want to do something actually worthy? Pull the trigger.”
