He shoves a clip into it.
"Enzo." My heart skips a beat.
I'm not sure why.
Of course, he has guns. His father is a mobster. Those men...
I gulp in air.
I've just never?—
The fury he has right now might put a Berserker to shame, and it scares me.
"Yep, going to kill the little fuck. And guess what? I know where he is."
"Enzo, calm down. Please. And tell me what's going on."
I want to say I'm confused, but while I might be on details, I really don't think I am about what he's thinking regarding Lyndall.
But I try to buy time. Because while I don't think he'd ever harm me or his sister, I think he's more than capable of murder. More than capable of beating the shit out of an eighteen-year-old who big-talked himself as twenty to a fifteen-year-old I'm beginning to see he might like back.
More than capable of murdering him.
And if he does, his hands aren't the only ones left bloody. Mine are too.
Worse, it'd be all my fault.
"Enzo, I don't understand. Please tell me what's going on?"
He stops. Tucks the gun away. "You don't understand? Let me spell this out for you."
"Spell out what?"
"Lyndall is pregnant. And I think you fucking know that."
"No—"
"No? Wrong answer. It's yes. She confirmed it herself. I found the fucking test in the trash."
Fuck.
I start to shake, and I can't feel my fingers.
"Enzo? Sit down." My voice sounds a million miles away.
"I don't have time for that. I have an asshole to fucking kill."
I make myself meet his eyes. "No, you don't. Sit. Down."
"Fuck that. The prick needs to suffer before I put a bullet between his eyes. He defiled my little sister, a kid. And I think I'm going to cut his dick off. After I put electrodes in it. I'll let him bleed out, I'll?—"
"Enzo. STOP."
He does, but he's gathering his self-righteous, rage-filled steam once more.
I have to tell him. I have to.
Now.
