22. Riot
TWENTY-TWO
RIOT
Something is wrong.
I’m not sure what, but all my senses are flashing warnings. The apartment feels quiet and yet charged with tense energy.
I’ve learnt to trust those instincts.
And I lean into them now.
I turn off the burner and open the drawer next to the stove. Reaching under, I feel metal beneath my fingertips and pull the gun free.
I prefer to fight with my fists, but with all the shit going down in the club, Nicky made sure these safe houses were stocked.
I’m fucking grateful for that now.
I split my gaze between the open kitchen door and the weapon in my hand. I check it’s loaded before I tuck it down the back of my jeans and pull my T-shirt over the top.
You’re just being a paranoid bastard.
But as I make my way down the hallway, that feeling becomes stronger.
At the door, I take a moment to listen for movement, anything that might seem off.
It’s the low rumble of a voice that sure as fuck is not Ivy’s that lights that fire inside me.
Adrenaline floods through me like a tidal wave. There is no feeling like the intense helplessness that bowls over me as I realise I failed at the one thing I promised Ivy, that nothing would touch her.
Whoever is in that fucking room with my girls is a dead man walking.
I inch closer, careful to avoid the floorboard that creaks, and when I hear the fear in Ivy’s voice, I almost shatter. I never wanted horror to touch her again, and I promised her it wouldn’t. How the fuck have I already let her down in less than twenty-four fucking hours?
My heart is a jackhammer beneath my ribs. Pure, undulating fear cracks my chest as I lightly grip the door handle, turning it with measured slowness.
The racing of my thoughts almost sends me spiralling, but I have to lock them down and worry about the fuck-up later. For now, I need to focus on the immediate threat.
But none of this makes sense. There is no way in hell anyone should have been able to get into this apartment. It’s locked down tighter than a fucking prison, and it sits on the sixth floor of the building. How the fuck did someone get inside without coming through the front door?
Every thought in my head scatters at the barked, angry voice demanding to know where ‘he’ is. Where the fuck who is? It’s enough to get me moving. Slowly, I push the door open, that noose around my neck feeling tight as Ivy’s terrified voice demands her daughter back.
And as I slide through the narrow gap in the door, my own horror is magnified.
Ivy is standing close to the bed, wearing just a towel, her damp hair loose around her shoulders. The vulnerability of her being almost naked threatens to unravel the last vestiges of sanity I’m holding onto.
And then I see him. His back is to me, dark hair sticking up as if he’s spent hours running his hands through the strands. There’s a knife dangling from his fingertips, but it’s the slither of golden hair poking out from the crook of his arm that dials my fear to maximum.
He’s holding Seren in front of him like a shield. Ivy’s frozen, trembling so hard, her legs might buckle. Her wide, terrified eyes meet mine, and I let go of the leash I’ve been clutching in my fist since I first met her.
I raise the gun, pressing it against the side of his head hard enough to push his neck to the side.
“You’re a dead man.”
It’s a testament to how fucking unhinged this guy is that he doesn’t show fear at the gun pressed to his head. Instead, he laughs, as if the threat of death is a joke.
“Careful now,” he caws. “Do you really think you can pull that trigger before I slip this little blade somewhere it shouldn’t go? Knives tend to make such a mess.”
My nostrils flare, every part of me wanting to wrap my hands around his throat and watch the life leave his eyes. Instead, I hover my finger over the trigger, ready to fire at a moment’s notice. “You have three seconds to put my daughter down before I spray your brains over the wall behind you.”
I don’t dare look in Ivy’s direction, keeping my eyes locked on the threat in front of me. I have to be careful with Seren so close, so firing the gun is the last line of defence, but I will drop this fucker if I have to. Nothing is going to happen to either of my girls.
“What a big, happy family. Except she’s not your daughter, is she? Tell me, do you enjoy playing daddy to my brother’s leftovers?”
I grind my teeth together, my jaw aching as I try to find calm. Now is not the time to give in to emotions. I have to stay cool, collected, and ready to act if I’m going to get everyone out of this in one piece.
“Your brother couldn’t even find his tiny cock, let alone get it up long enough to make a fuckin’ child.” It’s risky taunting him, but I’m hoping if I can get a reaction, he might do something stupid that I can monopolise on.
“Those little lacy numbers still had your scent all over them,” he says directly to Ivy, and I push the gun harder into his temple, forcing his head almost onto the opposite shoulder.
“Say that shit again. I dare you.”
He grins like a maniacal freak. “Shoot me and I’ll kill the kid.”
“Touch the kid and I’ll kill you,” I counter, and I mean every word of it. I have no problem ending his miserable fucking life.
Seren starts to cry, maybe picking up on the heightened emotions in the room, on her mother’s terror. It fucking shatters me to hear her distress.
“You obviously care about your brother,” Ivy says. “Do you think he’d want his daughter to be hurt? She’s upset. She needs me. Please, let me take her.”
His eyes, the only part of him able to move with my gun to his head, swivel towards her. “Sweetheart, it’s cute that you think you can appeal to my heart, but I don’t fucking have one. I don’t care if she lives or dies. The only thing I care about is my fucking brother. You tell me where he is, and I’ll willingly give you the brat back.”
“Is that what this shit is about? You’re lookin’ for your fuckin’ waste of space shithead brother?”
His head tilts just a fraction, and murderous intent flashes in his eyes. “Watch your mouth.”
“Ivy doesn’t know anything.”
“I know she fucking killed him. He disappeared off the face of the earth as if he never existed. Not a trace of him anywhere.”
My lips peel back into a snarl. “She didn’t kill him.” I take a slow, deliberate step back, letting him think he’s in control. “I did.” His eyes darken. The exhale through his nose is ragged. “I chopped his body into pieces and I?—”
He roars a feral sound and shoves—more than passes—the baby at Ivy. Then he launches at me before she’s steady on her feet.
The flash of metal is all I see as I pull the trigger. His body jerks, the shot finding its mark before he slams into me.
White-hot agony rips through my side as the knife drives deep into my flesh. My world tilts before my knees hit the floor, taking us both down. Move. Get up.
Seren’s screaming. Ivy too. I’m drowning in the sound of their terror, suffocating. Where the fuck is the gun?
My hand is too heavy to lift, and I roll my head to the side. He’s shifting, getting to his knees. I don’t know how he’s still moving. His shirt is soaked with blood, but he’s still fucking moving.
Fuck. He’s gonna kill me and then he’s gonna kill Ivy.
I force my body to move, turning to my side. The gun is just there, just beyond my outstretched fingers. I reach for it, the pull on my wound making the world spin for a second. Black spots flood my vision, but I don’t stop until I feel the metal against my fingertips.
I turn onto my back, point through my blurry vision, and fire. The shot barks through the room, and my ears ring as blood pours from his head. Then he slumps forwards onto his face and doesn’t move again.
Ivy scrambles to lay Seren on the bed before she drops next to me. My back arches, pain knifing through me as she slams her hands over my wound.
“I need to call an ambulance.” Her voice wobbles. I try to reach for her, but my arm’s heavy.
I shake my head instead, and the world tilts. Fuck . I hear Seren screaming close by, but I can’t see her.
“Call Mace.” I’m weak, my voice barely more than a whisper. Black is creeping into my vision, stealing her face from me. “No ambulance.”
Then, the darkness claims me.