Chapter 38 Willow #2
My palms are sweaty as I grip the gun tighter. I don’t have much time. Olivia is walking Malice slowly backward, and if I let them get much farther, I’ll have to step out of the shadows to take the shot.
I feel sick, bile climbing up my throat as I raise the gun. Malice’s gaze flicks toward me one more time, and I have to blink furiously, refusing to let tears cloud my vision. My hands shake, but I grit my teeth and force them to stop, locking my arms out as I take aim.
Please don’t let me kill him.
My finger caresses the trigger for a second, I adjust my hands just a little…
and then I fire. The kickback from the gun ripples up my arms, and a heartbeat later, blood sprays from Olivia’s neck.
She lets out a choked sound, and Malice shoves her backward just as she pulls the trigger of her own weapon.
The bullet flies upward, missing him by a hair, and Olivia staggers and falls, blood pouring from a hole in her neck.
Instantly, Malice goes for her gun, grabbing it and unloading the clip into her chest. Her body jerks with the impact, and as the last shot rings out, the room goes quiet.
Then Malice drops the gun on her chest and turns to stride toward me, nearly knocking me off my feet as our bodies collide. He wraps his bound arms around me, pulling me close in a bear hug.
“You did it,” he breathes. “I fucking knew you could.”
I can’t breathe at all, and it’s not just because of how tightly he’s holding me. My lungs seem to have seized up as all the latent fear I wouldn’t let myself feel before I pulled the trigger rushes through me.
“Angel.” Ransom’s voice comes from one side, and when Malice releases me, his brother is right there. Fear and relief seem to battle in his expression, and he cups my face in his hands, his fingers digging into my hair. “You were supposed to stay put. Stay hidden.”
He doesn’t chastise me any more than that though, crushing his lips to mine instead.
He must’ve cut Vic’s binds already, because Vic’s hands come to my shoulders as he turns me around.
There’s an almost haunted expression on his face, and I know he’s probably grappling with the same overwhelming emotions I am at having almost had to watch people he loves die.
“That was a good shot,” he tells me.
I nod, although his words only make my stomach clench all over again.
When Vic releases me, I glance toward his twin. Ransom is cutting the zip ties off his wrists, and my breath hitches as I catch sight of a raw patch of skin on Malice’s arm, a red line that cuts across his tattooed flesh.
It’s from the bullet, I realize.
That’s how close I came to missing.
He notices me staring at him in horror and glances down at the wound, then shakes his head.
“I’m fine,” he tells me, his voice firm.
“I’m alive because you took the shot, Solnyshka.
We all are. I’m gonna have a hell of a bruise from where a couple bullets hit my vest before Olivia’s men ambushed us, but this?
” He gestures to the raw wound on his arm.
“This is nothing. I’ll wear the scar with pride. ”
A noise from nearby draws our attention, all of the men tensing up as if ready to fight again. But when Jonah limps into the room, holding his hands up, we relax a bit.
“Everything clear?” Ransom asks. “Her other bodyguard is down?”
“There were two of ’em,” Jonah informs us, grimacing. “But yeah, they’re down.”
“Fuck.” Ransom looks him over. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he grunts.
The tall, lanky man has blood on his face, arms, and knuckles, but he doesn’t seem to care. His gaze scans the room we’re in, taking in the scene before landing on Olivia’s body.
He steps closer to her, and I follow, shivering a little as I take in the pool of blood beneath her still form.
She doesn’t look peaceful in death. Her face is contorted, her jaw hanging open a little and her eyes wide.
It’s gruesome and unsettling, but I don’t look away.
Because there’s something fitting about it too.
At least in death, she can’t hide behind the facade of civility. She looks just like the monster she is.
And with a bullet hole in her neck and several in her chest, she’s definitely not getting up again.
Jonah spits on her body, glaring down at it. “I hope you rot in hell, you foul bitch. Finally, my brother can rest in peace.”
He curls his fingers into fists, and I let out a breath, leaning against Vic as we stand gathered around the body. I wonder if my mother—both of them, actually—will be resting easier now that Olivia is dead.
Silence reigns as the five of us stare down at the corpse for a long moment, and then Ransom clears his throat.
“We should get the fuck out of here,” he says. “This area is pretty dead after five o’clock, which I’m sure is part of why Olivia picked it. So I’m not sure anyone would’ve heard us, but we need to clean up the scene and clear out.”
Before we can make a move to go, Jonah makes a low, pained sound. Then his legs buckle beneath him, and he collapses to the floor.
“Shit,” Malice hisses. “Goddammit.”
We all rush over to him, crouching down to check him out.
He’s the only one of us that still has a Kevlar vest on, but when Vic and Malice undo the Velcro and tug it off, I suck in a breath.
That fight with two of Olivia’s guards ended worse than he let us think.
His shirt is sticky with blood, and he has several deep wounds in his chest that look like they came from a knife.
“Oh god,” I breathe. “Is there anything we can do? We have to help him.”
“Ransom, bring the car closer. Maybe if we keep pressure on it—” Vic tears a strip from Jonah’s shirt and presses it to the wound, trying to staunch the flow of blood.
“Too fucking late for that.” Jonah shakes his head, letting out a humorless, pained laugh. “Don’t bother.”
His face is ashy and gray in the darkness, and he takes a deep breath that rattles in his lungs.
He looked beat up and exhausted when he stepped into the room a few moments ago, but I realize now that it was so much more than that.
My stomach flips over as it hits me that this isn’t a wound he can shrug off.
He’s dying.
“Listen,” he says, and it comes out raspy. “Listen to me.”
“Don’t try to talk,” Vic urges him. “We have to get you stabilized.”
“No. Listen.” Jonah’s eyes find mine, and they catch and hold. I lean closer, staring down at him. “Tell Quinn… tell her I love her,” he manages, a trickle of blood spilling past his lips.
I nod, my throat going tight.
His body shudders, and he drags in another ragged breath. Then another.
And then he goes still.