Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Aven
Agunshot rings out as I leap onto the metal platform from the gondola, and Kenny’s screeching spurs me forward.
God bless that loud-ass bird. If it hadn’t been for him, I never would have spotted the walkway.
Unfortunately, it was a moment too late, and I had to take the ride around again to get back here.
Quinn’s scream reaches my ears. I take off into a sprint, and when the walkway ends ahead, I use the momentum to leap to the other side.
The metal groans when I land, and the platform cants to the right.
I lose my footing. Rust scrapes away as I slide, and I claw for any sort of handhold.
My hand wraps around the railing at the last second, and my boots dangle toward death.
With all the strength in my upper body, I haul my feet back to the slanted platform and drag myself onto the next.
Darkness clouds my vision as I push forward, and another gunshot pierces the silence.
I’m close enough to hear the sounds of a scuffle—boots scraping on wood; grunts and wing flaps.
The gun fires again, and Quinn screams. If he shoots her, I’ll kill Desmond before ending my own life.
Not even Scotland is enough to live for if she isn’t there.
Desmond has been the barrier to all of my happiness.
King and Jim were keeping quite the secret, but now it’s out in the open.
Now I know that the only thing stopping me from returning to Scotland is also the only thing preventing Quinn from living her best life.
It’s time to destroy the wall and bridge the fucking divide he’s created.
I shoulder the door and take it down in one hit. I stumble forward and spot Desmond and Quinn on the ground, fighting over the gun. Kenny flies past and zips out the door, and it’s for the best. He doesn’t like loud noises, and it’s about to get very loud in here.
There’s no time to see if Quinn is shot. She and Desmond both have their hands on the weapon, and it’s a dangerous game they’re playing. The barrel shifts position, moving from her head to his, but she’s getting weak.
I lunge forward and bring my heel down on Desmond’s ribs. He grunts and recoils, but he doesn’t loosen his grip on the gun. Quinn leans forward and sinks her teeth into his clenched fist, and the gun fires again.
The pain is immediate. Heat explodes in my right side, and I grunt and clench my teeth to stop from screaming. Glancing down, I spy a small hole in my shirt. There’s very little blood when I press my fingers to the wound, though the sharp, searing, ripping ache damn near causes me to faint.
No matter. Jim always said the simulator predicted I would die to save the girl, and I’m inclined to prove it right. So long as she lives, I can die happy.
I bring my leg down on Desmond’s ribs again, and something cracks. His hands finally release the gun, and Quinn grabs it and scrambles backward on her ass while keeping the barrel leveled on his head.
“Don’t you fucking move, asshole!” she screams.
I rush to her side and drop to my knees. “Lass . . . are you hurt?”
The gun quivers in her hands, but her resolve is steady as she shakes her head. “He says he’s my father. Is it true?”
I place my hand over the gun and try to lower it, but she shakes me off.
“Is it fucking true?” she screams. She keeps the gun and her fiery green gaze locked on her target.
“Lass . . .”
Quinn pulls the trigger, but the gun just clicks. It’s either jammed or empty. She screams and tosses it aside, and Desmond continues writhing and gripping his cracked ribs as he fights for air.
I pull her into my arms as she begins to cry.
“Tell me it isn’t true. He isn’t my father. I was supposed to have found my family, Aven. I was supposed to be where I belong.” She cries harder, and I wish I could tell her it’s all a lie. But it’s not.
“You have found family, lass. You’ve found me.
” I wince and grit my teeth as she brushes against the bullet hole in my side.
“The others don’t even know that Jim lied about you being a Carter sibling, and they still welcomed you with open arms. Your lineage doesn’t change a damn thing.
You’re one of us, and we aren’t letting you go. ”
“You knew?” she asks, and the betrayal in her voice almost breaks me.
I stroke her hair and kiss the top of her head. “Only just, lass. Only just. King and Jim told me everything before I ran down here to play hero. I never would have kept this from you. Quinn . . . I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“And I love you three and four,” I say before I kiss her forehead. “Don’t ever forget that. I cannae live without you, lass.”
Desmond groans and rolls to a sitting position. “This is all very touching, but if you’re going to try to kill me, could we get on with it? I have a flight back to Scotland in just a few hours, and I’d hate to miss it.”
I rise to my feet and move toward the far wall, only now realizing what hangs there.
I pull the ax from its holder and close my eyes as the familiar weight rests in my hand.
“You ever watch Star Wars, Desi boy? Yoda has one of my favorite quotes. ‘Do or do not, there is no try.’ I don’t plan to leave you breathing, you bastard. ”
My arm rises, prepared to make the first swing, but the floor spins under my feet. A deep numbness washes over me, and I stumble into the wall. I slide into a slump on the floor, my stupid arm still wielding the ax above my head.
“Aven!” Quinn shouts. She scrambles on her hands and knees until she reaches me, then pulls my upper body into her lap. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
The lass feels me all over, and I’m too weak to stop her from discovering the hole in my shirt. Her fingers dart forward and raise the fabric, revealing the weeping wound in my side.
Desmond whistles and lets out a hoarse chuckle. “Damn, that sucks. Have fun bleeding out, though.”
He gets to his feet with a groan, and Quinn is powerless to stop him as he starts out the door. He pauses to deliver a parting blow before he exits.
“Oh, and one more thing.” He raises a finger with a smile. “Once your little boyfriend is dead, I’ll be back for you, Quinn. I won’t stop until you’ve joined him in hell, and now that he won’t be there to protect you, it will be easier than ever. This isn’t over yet.”
“You’re right,” King says as he steps into the tree house. “It isn’t over.”
My consciousness is fading fast, but I cling to the shreds as King, Jim, and Ezra step into the room. If they’re about to end Desmond, I don’t want to miss a second of it.
Quinn clutches me a little tighter. “He’s been shot,” she says toward the men.
Ezra passes a gun to Jim before hurrying to my side. Jim raises the weapon toward Desmond, who lifts his hands and backs toward the wall. Ezra looks at the hole in my side and shakes his head.
“Damn, this is a sorry business,” he whispers. He looks back at the men. “He could be bleeding out internally. We need to get him to hospital.”
“Ach, I’ll be fine. I just feel a little weak. Get what you need out of the asshole, and then kill him so I can die knowing Quinn is safe.” I wave him off, and he backs away. “The girl knows it all now, so let King get what he needs.”
Desmond cocks his head and breathes a little harder. I can only assume he’s working with a punctured lung at the moment. Good. I hope it hurts like hell.
“King?” Desmond says. “King doesn’t factor into any of this.”
“That’s where you’re bloody wrong, Desmond.” King steps closer and pulls some cuffs from his pocket. “Until I know what you’ve done with Marcia’s body, you’ll enjoy some downtime in the Cattle barn.”
A light sparkles in Desmond’s eye. “Oh, so I wasn’t the only one who enjoyed slumming?”
King pulls back his fist and sends it into Desmond’s face. Something cracks, and his nose begins to bleed.
“It wasn’t slumming. I loved her. I offered her all that I had, but she refused. I thought loving her from a distance would keep her and her young daughter safe from my sickness, but it wasn’t enough.” King fastens the cuffs around Desmond’s wrists. “You made sure of that.”
“She wouldn’t take your money? She was more than happy to accept mine,” Desmond says. He grins, showcasing his blood-stained teeth. “I took it back, of course. Right after I fucked her and slashed her up.”
A white fog begins to descend over my vision. I’m fading fast, but they’re so close to finding Quinn’s mother. I can’t derail the momentum by whinging about a little gunshot wound.
“She has to be here,” Quinn says. “There’s no way he got her body out of this death trap.” Her gaze darts to the door in the back wall. “He wanted me to go in there to change.”
I can’t feel Quinn’s warmth anymore. Everything is so cold. Footsteps clomp over the boards, but I can’t see anything. Voices filter through the haze and reach me from miles away.
“I see a skull . . .”
“Aven? Aven!”
“I’m sorry, son. I’ve tried to protect you. I’ve tried to protect all of you. Please . . . just wake up.”
The English accent filters through the fog. It’s somehow familiar and entirely foreign at the same time, but I follow it out of the darkness. My eyes open, and I discover a man in a white coat standing at my bedside.
When he notices my open eyes, he lowers the tablet in his hand, pulls off his glasses, and tucks them into his coat pocket. He holds his hand toward me, then pulls back when I don’t accept the handshake.
“I’m Doctor Mott, and I’ve been overseeing your care. How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been eaten and shit out by a bear,” I say. I make a mental note to find the owner of that voice, because it definitely isn’t this guy. He’s too high-pitched. And American. “Where’s Quinn?”
Doctor Mott checks his watch. “She stepped out to shower for the first time in three days. She’ll probably—”
“Three days?” I fling the blanket off my lap, then hurry to cover myself when I realize I’m naked. “Where the fuck are my clothes?”