Page 54 of At The End Of The Day

Another series of gunshots went off, followed by a very muted scream. Violetta yelped and curled into Tyler’s chest, fisting his shirt, her teeth clattering. I cursed and dropped the blind, slowly walking backward to stand beside Dash.

“What the fuck?” he whispered, putting his hand on the back of my shoulder. “Was that Jackyl?”

I gulped, my chest heaving. “I…dunno. It…almost sounded like a fucking animal.”

An eerie quietness fell over the room as the four of us stood there, gawking at the windows with the stupid ass cartoons singing upbeat music from the television. It was a surreal moment, all of us moments from facing our mortality.

Violetta whimpered and reached to cut off the tv, but I threw my arm over my chest, my palm out. “Don’t! He’s coming,” I added huskily with an ominous warning. Licking my lips, I shrugged Dash’s hand off, taking a few more backward steps. Looking at him then Tyler, I purposely avoided my sister. “It’s time, guys. Upstairs. Now.”

The atmosphere thick and melancholy, my soul was turning to stone. No more waiting, no more hiding. It was time to murder my best friend.

Chapter 22

Dario “Dash” Mangiacavallo

We were bounding down the stairs, Tyler, me, then Vincent. The Governor in his dominant hand and a Sig tucked in the waist of his jeans, his expression was set to determination, showing none of the apprehension he tried to hide whenever he held a weapon. Hobbling to the side, his bad leg buckled when his bare feet hit the brick floor of the foyer. Crumbling, he hit so hard, his teeth clanked. Throwing his head back, he hissed through them and shouted, “Ah, fuck!”

My pulse racing far too quickly to not be dangerous, I was fueled by pure adrenaline, already grieving the loss of Jackyl. Now was not the time for him to punk out or be weak. “Bitch, get the fuck up, what’s wrong with you?”

“Man, fuck you,” he sneered, his voice cracking. “You did this. This is your fault, remember?”

I clucked my teeth, that haunting shame rising to the surface. Hurrying over, I tucked an arm under his and across his back, tugging him to my chest to help him stand. “Shit. C’mon, man. Just focus. We gotta stay focused right now. Later, when this is over, you get a free swing at me, promise.”

The corner of his mouth curling, he snorted, “I’m gonna hold you to that.”

I forced a smile and patted the back of his shoulder, wanting to keep him as calm and steady as possible for someone who didn’t live the Serpent life. This man had never held a gun at all until recently and now he was forced to use it to protect him and his woman. He must be freaking out internally. “Good, now let’s go. We ain’t got no room to fuck up.”

He quickly limped down the hallway to the master suite and barricaded himself inside while I lunged to the side, cutting through the kitchen and down the couple steps to the lower section. As I was hopping onto the raised, brick hearth, the bedroom door where the kids had been staying slammed behind Vincent and the house went silent except for the cartoons. Violetta in the hidden cubby in the closet where my dad’s safe used to be, we were all at our posts, ready for the attack. Hopefully, Jackyl wouldn’t get past me to get anywhere near the others. If I did my job properly, this would be over in a few seconds, and they’d be safe.

Drenched in sweat, my back pressed against the corner, the coolness from the bricks soothed my skin. Breathing through my nose, my head was resting on the wall, my sight down and to the side, looking for movement at the back door. My Glock lifted by my shoulder, my finger gently rested on the trigger, waiting… anticipating.

For a split second, a trace of guilt shot through me. We were about to take down one of my oldest friends. A man I’d trusted my life with for well over a decade. We’d been through highs and lows, good times and bad, deaths and close calls with prison, always having one another’s backs.

He’d crossed the line, though. What he did with Violetta was heinous and unforgivable. I wasn’t exactly a saint when it came to women. I’d made mistakes, I’d fucked up, I’d been a bastard. She had been a child, just a little girl. Crimes against kids in my eyes never had an expiration date. He had orchestrated her life, planted himself in it, made her dependent upon him, and then twisted her frame of mind to think she was in love with him. A child, a sixteen-year-old little girl.

My cousin was fifteen. If a man did the things to her Jackyl had done to Violetta, I would cut him into pieces. It was irredeemable!

And the things he did after they got together? No, hell no. He wasn’t safe. He wasn’t trustworthy, at all. Besides, I made my choice and sided with her, which meant I changed alliances to Tyler Warren. At this point, it wasn’t even all about what he’d done in the past, but survival. If we didn’t get rid of him, me, her, Tyler, Vincent, and probably the kids would all be hunted down and slaughtered.

A creak on the deck had me flinching, my eyelids briefly closing. I didn’t want to do this! I wanted to rewind time and pretend like none of this happened. I would rather be blind to the truths than to take down my own brother.

“Shit,” I muttered, bowing my chin to pinch the bridge of my nose. As long as Violetta was around, Jackyl would always be a loose cannon willing to manipulate people to get his way, at all costs. He was obsessed with her. No one was safe.

“Tiny!” his deep, baritone voice bellowed from the other side of the wall.

I sucked in a breath and held it, tensing my muscles, readying to fire.

“Honey, I’m home,” he mocked. “Where the fuck is my kiss, you rotten, used whore?”

My eyelashes lifting, I craned my neck, trying to see something, anything. Where was he out there? What was he waiting for? I was so ready to just be done with this.

The knob jiggled and my pulse skipped a beat. Licking my lips and gulping, my arm extended, following parallel to the length of the wall, aiming in the direction of the door. Cocking the gun, my finger added just a tiny bit of pressure…waiting. He had to be inside before anyone took a shot at him. Inside.

Suddenly, a series of bullets started tearing up the entire length of the rear of the home. Glass shattered, wood splintering. Pain seared through my gut and I cried out, hunching over. Another bullet hit my shoulder, flinging me back into the wall.

“Fuck!” I shouted, the worst kind of agony riddling my body. Another hit sent me into a state of shock, and I fell to my knees. Blood pouring out of my mouth, my sight grew blurry and dark. My eyes rolling back, I crumbled to the hearth, my arm with the gun falling to the floor.

Vincent da Silva