47. Roman #2
I frown. “Who, Juliette?”
Tyler’s grip grows stronger on his gun, and he re-aims, his hand steadying.
The night is so quiet around us, it’s like even it can feel that moving would be perilous.
And then Merrick—drunk as shit—sways.
Pop.
For a second, there’s no movement. I question if I even heard the gun go off; there must be a silencer on it, because the noise was muffled. It didn’t crack against the sky. But then, a flurry happens.
Lance grips Tyler’s hand and disarms him like it’s as easy for him as breathing, and he tosses the gun to the side so he can restrain him by the arms.
But Tyler’s not fighting them; he’s staring next to me with wide eyes like he can’t believe what he’s just done. His mouth opens and closes. “I didn’t, I don’t?—”
Merrick stumbles and falls, his hand gripping his side and blood pouring through his fingers.
“ Jesus .” I jump forward, my hands replacing his, trying to stanch the bleeding. I drop to my knees as he falls to the ground.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
From my periphery, I see Frederick walk forward, bend over, and pick up the discarded weapon.
He stares at it in his hands and then says something to Tyler, making Lance’s eyes grow wide.
But I don’t know what. All I can hear is the panic whooshing in my ears, and all I can feel is Merrick’s blood soaking my fingers.
Benjamin is shell-shocked. He looks down, sees Merrick, and a calm fury replaces everything else on his face. Lance is talking to Tyler and trying to calm him down, and Rosalie is sobbing.
But all I can pay attention to is Merrick.
“ Fuck ,” he mutters, and then coughs.
“Merrick.” I don’t know what to do, how to stop the wound, or who to call. I want to reach for my phone to dial 911, but I don’t want to move my hands in case it makes him bleed out faster, or—I don’t know, but I need to do something.
“You’re okay, you’re okay, shit ,” I manage.
“Just a scratch, sweetheart,” he forces out, silent tears tracking down his cheeks.
“Tyler, you absolute idiot.” Benjamin’s voice rings out sharp and sure, and my gaze snaps up to everyone, seeing Frederick step into the middle of the courtyard and face Tyler, the gun flat in his palms.
Lance is now comforting Rosalie, Tyler standing frozen still.
“Ro-Roman.”
I snap my gaze back down to Merrick.
“No—nothing good can come from you being here. The people…the people you think you can trust are not what they seem. So, if you love…” He pauses again, gritting his teeth.
“Love her. Choose her . These families are cursed.” He cries out in clear pain, and then his eyes focus on everyone else, and he tries to sit up.
Somehow, he makes his voice strong. “Do you hear me? A plague on both your houses!”
He drops back to the ground, gasping, and then his body goes limp, and he slips from my grasp.
“Somebody do something!” I yell out. “Get over whatever bullshit this is and call for help.”
Benjamin unfreezes from where he’s staring at Merrick, his face ghostly white, and then he nods and spins around, running back inside the building.
If I wasn’t so focused on Merrick, maybe I could stop what happens next, but I don’t.
“Freddy, listen, you gotta understand.” Tyler’s voice is panicked.
“You had one job, Tyler. One thing I ask of you, and I’d let Benjamin give her back.”
What the fuck?
Frederick looks down at the gun and then back up to him. “But you’re always causing problems.”
Lance stiffens, and he bursts into movement, but it’s too late.
Frederick moves the gun. Aims it.
And shoots Tyler right in the chest.
The world freezes again.
And then Rosalie lets out a guttural scream.
The next few minutes are complete chaos.
“Ty,” Lance yells out, his voice rough and deep, like he’s trying to hold it together. He grasps Tyler’s body in his arms, and he’s shaking so violently I can see it from where I’m still holding onto Merrick.
I’m frozen in my spot, because Merrick is still breathing, and I’m afraid if I move, if I let go, then he’ll die.
The gun hangs loose at Frederick’s side, and Tyler is on the sidewalk with blood pooling beneath him and a hole in his chest.
Bile rises up my throat, and I glance away, nostrils flaring as I keep it down.
This is not the time to freak out.
“You are so fucked !” Rosalie screams, pointing at Frederick. “I hate you. I hate you, do you hear me? Uncle Craig won’t let you get away with this!”
Frederick laughs and walks forward, brushing the barrel of the gun down Rosalie’s face. “I’m fucked?” He swings around, giving me a side glance, and then looking back at them. “I’m the boss here.”
What?
Rosalie drops down next to Lance and Tyler, big fat black mascara tears running down her face and streaking on her cheeks.
“Tyler!” she screams instead, her voice broken. “Ty… please .”
“Shut her up, Lance, or I’ll do it for you.” Frederick points to Rosalie.
Lance glares at him. “You were supposed to end all of this, not make things worse. We trusted you.”
My heart twists, confusion making my head throb and my stomach drop.
Frederick cracks his neck and then turns on his heel, walking toward me with slow, deliberate steps. “Lesson number one. Never trust anyone.”
It takes me a moment to realize that he’s talking to me.
“Fuck you , Frederick,” I snap.
He crouches down next to me, and then before I can even process it, he reaches for my hand, pressing something cold into it.
The gun.
My fingers wrap instinctively around it, and then I panic, dropping it to the ground. It’s too late, though. It’s right there. My grip, smudged with Merrick’s blood.
My prints are all over that weapon.
“You’re out of your mind,” I whisper, my voice cracking.
Frederick smiles. “Can’t believe you’d do all this just to help your father seek his revenge.”
My eyes widen.
“There are witnesses,” I say, my chest feeling like it might explode from the pressure. “You can’t spin this.”
“Yet everyone here knows what they saw.” He looks back to Rosalie and Lance, who both have looks of grief but resignation on their faces.
Tyler twitches on the ground.
Frederick stands and straightens his tux. “Tyler’s always been a loose cannon. Everyone knows it. He snapped and shot Merrick, and you jumped in, got caught in the chaos.”
I shake my head.
“I got here just in time.” He grimaces. “Unfortunately, I wasn’t quick enough to save you from ending your own life.”
He picks up the gun and aims it at my head, and it’s only then I realize he’s wearing gloves. Like he was prepared for this moment.
My breath leaves me in a whoosh.
I stare up at him, my heart racing, my fingers still halfway inside of Merrick’s bullet wound, and my mind trying to claw its way out of this nightmare. “Who are you?”
He leans in close, shoving me from Merrick’s body and pressing the barrel against my head. “I’m the one who’s about to inherit everything your family’s built. You signed on the dotted line, after all.”
Jesus Christ. It’s all about money. That’s all any of these people care about.
My eyes flick to Rosalie, who has quieted now, soft sobs coming from her, and she looks broken.
She meets my gaze, but only for a second before she drops her face back down.
I let out a disbelieving laugh, but I don’t have time to think things through right now. Shock wraps its icy tendrils around me. I swallow, looking at everyone one final time, because how is this real life?
My fingers are soaked in a deep, musky red, and nausea churns in my gut when I focus on them, so instead, I stare down at the blood-stained sidewalk, and then to my clothes, where spatters are streaked across the white of my tuxedo like paint.
My hands tremble.
“My father won’t let you get away this.”
Frederick smiles. “Marcus made this town bleed for decades. He was about to go broke right at the end, like a dog. The world is better off without him. Your family was never supposed to be the one in power.”
A sledgehammer to the stomach would shock me less. I stumble back, slipping on the ground as I stand. “You killed him.”
He shrugs. “I put the poor man out of his misery. It’s amazing what a few zeros and an underpaid nurse will agree to. Especially if you frame it as a mercy.”
The world tilts.
The blood on my hands is sticky now, tacky and dark. My tux is ruined. My fingers won’t stop shaking.
Lance’s eyes meet mine, and then a noise comes from the side of the building.
Loud yelling and a door slamming closed.
Frederick curses under his breath, standing tall. His grip on the gun tightens.
And I don’t think.
I stand up, and I run.