Chapter 34 #2
Suddenly, Luke lunges. The movement is so fast it startles me—the scrape of his shoes, the sharp intake of breath.
Jackson reacts, quicker than I expect, and the sound of his fist connecting with Luke’s cheek is a dull, sickening thud.
Luke counters, driving a right hook into Jackson’s jaw.
They crash into the kitchen island, chairs skidding and clattering across the tile.
Delia raises the gun, her voice cold and steady. “Stop.”
Luke doesn’t stop. Jackson grabs for leverage, shoving Luke backward. The refrigerator rattles as Luke slams him against it, landing two rapid body shots. The gun’s hammer clicks—a metallic snap that cuts through the chaos, freezing everyone in place.
Luke’s hands rise, just enough to show he’s not giving up. Delia’s aim is unwavering, the barrel pointed at his chest.
“Step away,” she says, her voice eerily calm.
Luke backs up, his breath ragged, sweat beading at his temple.
Jackson straightens, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, his breathing harsh. He turns to me, his voice low and venomous. “You think this ends with applause? You think federal paperwork protects you?”
I take a step back, my pulse roaring in my ears. Luke shifts, instinctively putting himself between me and the threat. The gun tracks him, the muzzle never wavering.
Then, a gunshot explodes through the kitchen, deafening in the confined space. The acrid scent of gunpowder fills the air. Luke stumbles and drops to his knees. I’m at his side before I can think, my hands searching frantically for blood, my breath coming in short, panicked bursts.
“It’s not mine,” he gasps, gripping my wrists. “Look.”
Jackson is clutching his upper arm, blood pouring between his fingers, staining his sleeve crimson. Delia’s eyes widen, shock breaking through her mask. The shot didn’t come from her gun.
Luke’s gaze lifts past me, his voice suddenly gentle. “You’re safe. You can put it down.”
I snap my head in the direction Luke’s looking and see a young teen girl standing in the doorway.
She's still holding the gun, and her finger is still on the trigger. Her eyes are wide, her skin is ashen, and she’s shaking uncontrollably.
The adrenaline dump she just experienced is taking a toll on her body.
The fact that she just shot someone weighs heavily upon her mind.
Wait a second.
“Kelly?” I say as I rise from the floor–-very, very slowly. "Kelly, sweetheart, is that you?"
She finally moves her eyes and looks at me. At first, it’s as if she’s looking through me. I’m not sure she’s really here with us until her eyes start to focus again.
“Kelly?”
She chokes out one word before sobbing, and her knees fold under her. “Andi.”
I rush to her side and catch her in my arms as we both crumble to the floor. She drops the gun beside us, buries her face in my chest, and clings to me as tightly as she can. I lightly stroke her hair and give her calm, soothing words.
“You know her?” Luke asks.
I nod. “This is Kelly. She was my little sister when I was in that house. She was only four or five when they sent me off.” I’m still holding her, much like I used to when she was younger, and gently rocking her back and forth.
“I heard them,” she cries. “He said he was going to hurt you.”
Luke doesn’t chase after the Rhoades as they retreat through the back door. He moves quickly, securing the weapon, then calls the police, his voice steady but urgent. “No sirens. Minor involved. Shots fired.”
Kelly trembles in my arms, clinging to me as if she might disappear if she lets go. The house is filled with the distant wail of sirens, the flash of blue and red lights painting the walls, the low murmur of police radios as Detective Burns arrives.
She kneels beside Kelly, her voice soft and steady. “Where did you get the gun?”
“I took it,” Kelly whispers. “From their house.”
Burns nods, absorbing the answer. She issues a BOLO for Jackson and Delia, stations units outside, and assures us that Kelly isn’t being treated as a suspect. “Context matters,” she says quietly.
Hours later, after statements, photographs, and evidence collection, the house is quiet again. Kelly sleeps in the guest room, finally at peace after a long shower and borrowed clothes.
Luke and I sit in the living room, the silence between us heavy with everything that’s happened. I stare at the hallway, my mind replaying every moment.
“They escalated,” Luke says finally, his voice rough.
“Yes.” My mind is still racing to accept all the events of tonight. Nothing seems real while everything feels veritable.
“They’re desperate.”
“Yes.” I let out a shaky breath, the adrenaline finally ebbing. “They’re losing, and they know it. When they lose in the public eye, their power is stripped away. Their friends disappear back under the rocks from where they crawled. Their network will collapse on them.”
But like any injured animal that’s backed into a corner, that network will come out fighting first.
By morning, the sports blogs will call it a routine review.
By afternoon, they’ll call it a controversy.
By nightfall, someone will leak her name.