Chapter 13 #3
Sky could be stupid at times, living life like a game, but he was still the little kid who’d come to sleep in my bed when a storm raged outside.
He was still the four-year-old who punched a child twice his size for bullying me on the playground.
He was still the five-year-old who gripped my hand tightly as we watched Mom pack and leave us.
And he was still the fifteen-year-old who made a teacher apologize for wrongfully giving me a D+ grade.
He was Skyler, my intelligent, fun-loving little brother, and I’d die before I let anything happen to him.
War grasped my elbow and pulled me toward the Porsche.
He didn’t hesitate to open the passenger door and usher me inside.
He wasn’t rough, but his urgency was palpable and appreciated.
Once he slid into the driver’s seat, he hit the ignition, and the car rumbled to life.
The engine’s roar vibrated to my bones, and my fingers tingled.
I’d never been in a vehicle like this, especially not a sports car.
I wasn’t sure how Dad would feel if he saw me in the Porsche, but he had no say, especially after choosing to leave Sky behind.
“Do you think she’ll actually kill Sky?” I asked, anxiety thick in my voice.
“I wish I could say no.” His fingers tightened on the steering wheel as he pulled the car out of the driveway and onto a road lined with large, upscale mansions. The street was excessively ornate. Early fall had begun to color the trees and leaves already littered the sidewalks.
War sighed. “But I can’t. The Covolos are dangerous people, and I’ve already mentioned Francesca. She is violent and cruel, and she doesn’t tolerate being made a fool of.”
“Is that what Sky did?” I whispered.
“Yes.” War’s fists clenched on the expensive leather of the wheel. “Scalia might get away with it, but Sky won’t. In her eyes, he serves no purpose to her.”
I rubbed my upset stomach and leaned back against the seat. “I hope we can convince him to leave.”
He offered a soft, sad smile. “Me too, Kit.”
Silence fell between us, and I closed my eyes, contemplating a future I didn’t yet fully grasp. I was either about to lose a brother and my life would change irrevocably, or I’d drag him out by his hair if I had to. Dad had always been the villain in Sky’s eyes, but now it was my turn.
Finding parking in the city was hell. An hour later, War was cursing, and I realized if this kept up, Dad’s time limit would expire long before we even parked the sleek and overly expensive car.
“Just drop me off and find a spot. I’ll go see him,” I said.
War’s eyebrows furrowed. “No. I need to be at your side.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s my brother, War. I’ll be fine. Please, by the time you find somewhere, Dad will be calling for me to come back.”
War grumbled but nodded. When he pulled to a stop in front of Sky’s building, I jumped out, ignoring the honking cars behind us. War drove off as I raced toward the building entrance. The receptionist, who remembered me from yesterday, took one look and waved me through.
“Your brother said to let you up if you visited again. Here, this is a guest key card for the elevator.”
I thanked him with a grin and rushed to the elevators, hopping into the first one that arrived. I shared the cab with a little old lady holding a toy poodle to her chest.
“Good afternoon. How’s your day been?”
She offered a kind smile. “Very well, thank you. It’s hot out there today.”
I nodded in agreement. Even though it was late September, Louisiana was hellishly hot. How Sky tolerated the heat, I didn’t know. He always complained about anything above sixty-five when he lived in New Gothenburg.
We chatted about little things. Dad had always taught me to be polite to strangers—an ironic lesson, considering he killed people for a living. Why did he instill these social habits in me?
The elevator dinged at Sky’s floor. I said goodbye as I stepped out. Sky’s apartment was the only one on this floor. I knocked, but after a few minutes, no one answered, so I knocked again.
“Sky? It’s me. Kit.” Panic ached in my chest. If I didn’t see him now, I might never get to see him again, and the thought of losing my brother scared the fuck out of me.
Fear and anxiety mingled, nausea swelling and my lungs squeezing.
I grabbed my phone, unlocked it, and found War’s contact.
My thumb hovered over the Call button. Was it stupid to want War right now, even though he was literally on the street finding parking?
“Ki—” Something crashed inside the apartment, and I froze, the beginnings of Sky’s shout echoing through the thick wooden door. He sounded scared. The noise that followed resembled glass hitting a hard floor.
The door wasn’t locked. I shoved it open and stumbled inside, my heart hammering against my ribs.
The apartment was trashed. Furniture overturned, glass shattered over the marble floor, and a vase of flowers spilled and bleeding water across the entry.
And in the center of it all, Sky stood with his back to a wall close by the door, his face pale, blood soaking through the shoulder of his white shirt.
Francesca Covolo—or was it Scalia?—faced him with a gun steady in her manicured hands. She was beautiful in the way a blade was, sharp and polished and designed to cut. Her dark hair was swept up in an elegant twist and her cream suit was immaculate despite the chaos around her.
“Did you think you could fuck my husband and walk away?” she asked, her voice silken and cold. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out, you little whore?”
“Francesca, please,” Sky whispered. He pressed harder against the wall, terror flashing in his gaze. Neither of them noticed me. “I didn’t know he was married. I swear.”
“Liar.” She took a step closer, the gun unwavering. “Arrigo tells everyone. It’s his little joke. But you thought you were special, didn’t you? Special enough to take what belongs to me.”
I didn’t think. I couldn’t think, not with Sky bleeding and that gun pointed at his chest. I lunged.
My shoulder caught her in the side with all the momentum of my panic and fury. She made a sound of shock, more outrage than pain, and we went down together. The gun skittered across the marble, spinning toward the overturned coffee table.
I scrambled for the weapon, my fingers closing around the grip just as Francesca shoved herself up on her elbows, hair falling loose around her face. Her elegant mask finally cracked to show the animal beneath. She rose to her knees as I pointed the weapon at her.
“Stay there. On your knees,” I shouted.
“Give me the gun, little boy,” she said, holding out her hand, lips curving with a confidence that made my stomach turn. “I promise I won’t kill you and your brother if you do.”
“Don’t listen to her, Kit. She’ll kill us both.”
“But I won’t.”
I swallowed. What would Dad do? Stupid question, because the father I grew up with and the one now wasn’t the same person. The stranger I called my father would kill, but I wasn’t like that.
So, what would War do? Damn it. I wished I’d come up with him, but if I had, Sky might be dead. War wouldn’t hesitate. He always protected me.
Her smile widened, predatory and sure. She thought I was weak. She assumed I’d been raised soft, sheltered, and useless. She was wrong. So fucking wrong.
Footsteps thundered from the back rooms, two men bursting through the doorway with guns drawn, shouting so loudly I couldn’t understand a word they were saying. Francesca’s backup. Her smile turned triumphant.
I didn’t aim for the chest or the head. Center mass was for killing, and I wasn’t a killer. Not yet. Dad had taught me that much in our shooting lessons, in training I’d thought was theoretical.
The first shot took the lead man in the knee.
He screamed and collapsed, his gun clattering uselessly as he clutched his leg.
The second man raised his gun, but I was quicker.
I squeezed the trigger twice more, both shots catching him in the thighs.
He went down hard, howling, blood spreading fast across his dark trousers.
The apartment went quiet except for the wounded men’s groans and my own ragged breathing. Francesca moved and stood, but I trained the gun on her. My hands shook so badly I could barely hold it steady.
“Get back on your knees,” I said. My voice didn’t sound like mine. It sounded like Dad’s, like someone who knew what violence cost and paid it anyway.
Francesca’s smile finally shattered. She sank to the floor, her cream suit staining with blood that wasn’t hers. Her eyes burned with hatred so pure it felt like heat against my skin.
Her smile widened, as if she’d decided I’d give in to her. “Pass it to me. I’ll forget about everything that happened.”
She suffers no fools. That’s what War had said about Francesca, and I wasn’t one. Sky might’ve done something stupid, but I wasn’t going to let that be his last mistake.
“No.” I hit the trigger.
Bang!
Silence fell across the room. My eyes widened at the new hole in her head. Blood seeped from the wound as she fell backward, her legs bent at an awkward angle.
“What the fuck did you do?” One of the injured soldiers groaned, shoving himself to his feet.
He limped toward me. I hesitated for a moment before raising the gun and firing again.
This time, in my fear and anxiety of killing someone, I was off my mark.
The bullet hit his shoulder. His body twisted, but he didn’t go down.
Instead, he roared, running toward me as fast as he could with an injured leg.
I hesitated. I’d fucked up. I killed Francesca Covolo and now I was about to die. Maybe I deserved everything about to happen.
The door crashed open and War pounded across the living room with speed that didn’t seem possible for a man his size and weight. He reached me before the soldier did and brought the soldier down with moves I couldn’t begin to replicate. War moved with more than grace, he fought with efficiency.