The hole through her head leaves no question as to her death. Her skin is pale, blood staining her temple and trailing along the floor. She is lifeless in a light blue silk suit, her one foot bare and the other wearing a red-bottomed navy blue heel. She will never move again.
Sirens wail in the distance, growing sharper with every second. The rising pitch cuts through the lobby, echoing off the marble walls until the sound feels like it’s inside my skull.
“Damn it.” Justice’s voice is pure grit. “We were set up.” His head snaps toward Wynd. “Take Ella. Get her out the back door and to my place by the ocean since it’s been cleared. Keep guards on the whole property, including Thorn’s place, until I get there. Got it?”
“Yes,” Wynd answers, already signaling the men stationed by the windows. Boots pound against the floor as bodies shift into formation, dark suits moving like pieces on a chessboard.
I can’t stop staring at Sylveria. Dead. On the floor. She’d hate being on the floor and missing one shoe. Just hate it. “Wait.” My voice comes out raw.
“No.” Justice doesn’t look at me. His tone leaves no room to even argue. “I want you out of here.”
I gag as I breathe in the coppery smell of Sylveria’s blood. The soft strands of hair fanned around her face look delicate against the gore. The wound in her head is merciless, a blackened circle that robbed her of everything in one instant. She despised me. I never liked her. Still, seeing her sprawled and ruined sends a spear of nausea slicing through me.
Justice’s hand shoves at my arm, pulling me off balance. “Move.”
“I’m going with her,” Wesley blurts out.
“The fuck you are,” Justice snaps, fire in every word. His body angles forward, broad shoulders tense as a bowstring.
Outside, tires screech, rubber burning against wet pavement. Sirens wail closer now, red and blue lights strobing against the windows in dizzy bursts.
“Go!” Justice roars, the command cracking the air. Guards scatter, voices low but urgent, hands on weapons. The energy shifts into something sharp, electric, and on the verge of exploding. “Somebody fucking find Kaz,” Justice barks, scanning the lobby. “He should be here.” His voice vibrates with rage as he cuts toward the corridor.
Wynd answers without looking up. “The cameras are still down.”
The weight of the moment presses in—sirens screaming, rain hammering the glass, blood pooling across the white tile, and the body of Sylveria Rendale lying as proof that everything just changed.
I touch Justice’s arm. “That’s what the reception guy was telling you? That your cameras are down?”
“Yeah.” His mouth flattens. “Not good.”
Somebody knocks loudly on the outside door.
“Go.” Wynd grabs my arm, his grip firm, and we cut down the hallway and away from the lobby, toward a hidden elevator tucked around the corner. Guards shift aside to clear a path, radios crackling low as orders snap back and forth.
The steel panel blinks faintly when Wynd presses hispalm against the scanner. The hum of machinery answers, low and mechanical. I eye the glowing panel. I need my biometrics added to this system. Just in case. Malice Media has too many secrets not to poke at.
Wesley shadows us. I shake my head at him, but he doesn’t fall back. The elevator doors slide open with a hiss, and we rush inside.
Wesley steps in behind me.
“I’m going to have to kill you,” Wynd mutters, steel in his voice.
“I’m making sure she’s safe,” Wesley growls back.
My eyes start to water and I sniff, fighting another sneeze. I need cough drops.
Wynd slams a button, and the doors close. The car drops fast, humming around us. His gun is out in one smooth motion, barrel lifting.
I raise both hands, palms open. “No. Don’t shoot him.”
“I don’t have a choice.” His eyes are hard and steady.
“Yes, you do.” My voice cracks sharp across the small space. “Seriously. Right now we need to get out of here before the police reach us. For some reason.” Why? I could’ve handled the police. “Though, shouldn’t I make a statement?”
Both men shake their heads, in perfect unison for one odd second.
“She’s your stepmother who stole your inheritance,” Wynd mutters. “Everybody knows that. We need to get you out of here until Justice figures out what happened.”
