We look over to the patio.
A man in a dark blue suit is standing by the gate, his white-blonde hair brushed back, sharp blue eyes darting between Lina and me. I don’t recognize him, but it seems Lina does. She’s paled, and she takes my hand.
“Lina?” he says, a slow, toothy grin spreading. “Am I disturbing your moment?”
Lina squeezes my hand and whispers, “Run, Guy.”
His ice-blue eyes gleam with amusement, and now I know who he is, but I don’t want to admit what this means for us. I don’t have a weapon, and as far as I’m aware, neither does Lina. Gable will have some in the house, but my instinct tells me Sawyer Sinclair didn’t come alone.
He laughs. “Yes, Guy. Please run. I love to shoot a man in the back.”
“Don’t you fucking touch him,” Lina hisses.
“I think you’ll find I can do whatever I like,” he says. “Why don’t you join us all on the patio? We were about to play a game.”
Ella. The kids. I release Lina’s hand and strideforward, fully intent on knocking this prick the fuck out, but he holds up a hand—his gun glinting in the fairy lights.
“Not so fast, Chief. Let’s be civil about this.”
Civil. Men like this don’t do civil. Men like this rape and murder women. They evade repercussions through money and contacts, and that freedom only feeds the beast in them. They have all the power.
We have none.
I reach my hand out, and Lina takes it as we head onto the patio.
Everyone is seated at the round, wooden table. Ella is in a black dress, Gable to her left, their hands entwined. Y is on Ella’s right, and a woman who I assume is Silence, is next to him, dressed as elegantly as Ella. Two empty seats remain.
A revolver is in the middle of the table.
“I had everyone dress for the occasion,” Sawyer says. “But I can let it go for you two.”
Gable locks eyes with me, and I glance at the house. I hope he can read my mind.
The kids?
His gaze cuts to the upstairs window. The twin’s bedroom. When we lock eyes again, I see his panic, the frustration.
His family is up there.
My family is, too.
What the fuck do we do?
I count six armed men situated around the patio. A quick glance through the glass doors tells me that the house appears empty, but I could be wrong. There is a reason Gable and Y haven’t rushed these men, and I doubt it’s just because they’re outnumbered.
“Take a seat,” Sawyer says. I do, but before Lina can, he rests the muzzle of the gun against her chest. “Not you.”
I stand again, but she shakes her head. “It’s okay.”
Slowly, I take my seat, keeping my eyes on her.
Sawyer hits her fast, backhanding her across the cheek, and a mist of sheer fury clouds my vision. Blood pumps through my muscles as I launch myself out of my seat and go for him. Gripping his shirt, I pull my fist back, pausing only when cold metal presses to my temple.
“No!” Lina screams.
Sawyer doesn’t flinch; he just allows me to keep a firm grip on his shirt, panting through my rage as one of his men holds me at gunpoint. “Go ahead, hit me. I’ll just shoot your daughter.”
Rage barrels through me. “You’re a fucking piece of shit!”
