Chapter 20: Killian
The attic door was unlocked, the key missing. I pushed it open. The smell hit first—gunpowder mixing with the stale air of the attic. I stopped in my tracks.
The scene came into focus. My hand went to my weapon. Caspian, the wife’s brother, was on the floor on his knees. He was bent forward like he was praying, his body trembling. His face was pale, slick with sweat, his eyes fixed on something in front of him with a terror that had no room for pride.
I followed his gaze. Chloe stood in the corner, barefoot, wearing nothing but her bra and panties. Her hair was wild around her face. Her cheek was swelling, a purple bruise blooming across her dark skin. My heart sped up. In her hands was a gun.Mygun.
Pointed at Caspian's head.
"Chloe."
She didn't look at me. Her eyes stayed on Caspian, steady and cold, like she was deciding whether to pull the trigger.
"Chloe," I said again, softer this time. I raised my hands slowly, palms out. "It's me. It's Killian."
Nothing. I took a step closer.
"Don't." Her voice was flat. "Don't come any closer."
I stopped. "Okay," I said. "I'm not coming closer. But I need you to look at me."
She didn't move.
"Please."
Something in my voice must have reached her. Her eyes shifted—just slightly—toward me.
"There you are," I said. "Hi."
"Hi," she whispered.
"You want to tell me what's going on?"
"He hit me." Her voice cracked. "He's been touching me for years. He tried to kiss me. So I—" She nodded toward the hole in the wall.
"Okay," I said. "Okay. That's good. Nobody’s dead. You're safe now. You’re in control.”
She blinked. Her hands were shaking now. The gun trembled in her grip. "I'm not," she said. "I'm not in control of anything."
"You're holding the gun."
"That's not the same thing."
I took another step. She didn't tell me to stop. "I want to shoot him so bad it hurts," her voice trembled.
"I know."
I was close enough now. Close enough to see the tears she was fighting. Close enough to see the bruise on her cheek, the split in her lip, the blood dried on her chin.
"I need you to give me the gun, Chloe."
She looked at it, then at me, then at Caspian—still kneeling, still shaking, still too terrified to speak. "He deserves to die," she said.
"Probably."
"So why shouldn't I—"
"Because you're not a killer." I held out my hand. "And because I won't let him hurt anyone ever again. I swear it."
