Chapter Sixteen #2
Kade Lancaster’s proposal, fitting perfectly with the rhythm of their souls, was a masterpiece of romance and serenity.
A week later, Kade asked Marcy to take a walk with him along the secluded, rocky beach at the edge of the Sanctuary’s property. The evening tide was gently washing against the shore, the sky a bruised, beautiful canvas of twilight.
Marcy walked beside him, holding his hand, the cool ocean breeze whipping her dark hair around her face. Kade was uncharacteristically quiet, his thumb rhythmically stroking the back of her hand.
He stopped walking near a cluster of ancient, sea-weathered stones. He turned to face her, the soft light of the rising moon illuminating the deep, endless affection in his eyes.
"When I was a boy, I promised I would always protect you," Kade said softly, his voice carrying the weight of a lifelong vow over the sound of the crashing waves.
He lifted her hand, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to her knuckles.
"I lost my way, Marcy. I let the darkness of my world blind me to the only light that ever mattered.
But you saved me. You gave me a second chance that I never deserved. "
Marcy’s breath hitched, the sincerity in his words wrapping around her heart like a warm embrace.
Kade slowly, reverently descended to one knee on the damp sand. He withdrew a small, intricately carved wooden box from his coat. As he opened it, an exquisite, vintage-cut diamond caught the moonlight.
"You are my peace," Kade whispered, looking up at her with a devotion that transcended time.
"You are my heart, my soul, and my entire world.
I promise to spend every day of the rest of my life ensuring you never have a reason to doubt my love.
Will you marry me, Marcy? Will you let me be yours, forever? "
"Yes," Marcy breathed, a single, happy tear tracking down her cheek. She smiled, a radiant, serene expression of joy. "Yes, Kade. Forever."
Kade slid the ring onto her finger, standing up and pulling her into his arms. He kissed her beneath the moonlight, a slow, devastatingly romantic promise of a lifetime of peace.
The celebration that followed later that evening in the main living room of the Sanctuary was electric.
Leon and Connor had procured several bottles of vintage champagne, popping the corks with raucous cheers. The fireplace was roaring, casting a golden glow over the newly engaged couples.
Kinsley was pacing the length of the Persian rug, gesturing wildly with her left hand, the diamond catching the firelight. She was in her element, dramatic and deeply theatrical.
"A double wedding!" Kinsley declared, pointing her champagne flute at Kade and Marcy.
"Think of the logistics! It’s highly efficient.
We can have it right here on the cliffs.
And then, a double honeymoon. We charter the jet, we fly to the Maldives, we commandeer an entire private island.
I want fire dancers. I want a terrifyingly large cake! "
Marcy sat curled on the sofa, sipping her champagne, absolutely deeply amused by her sister’s frantic planning. "Kinsley, you just got engaged four hours ago. Breathe."
"I am breathing, Marcy, I am breathing ambition!" Kinsley shot back with a grin.
Connor and Leon were leaning against the bar, highly entertained. "I give it three days before she attempts to hire a flock of trained doves," Connor laughed, clinking his glass against Leon’s.
Kade and Cruz stood near the fireplace. They didn't care about the logistics, the doves, or the Maldives. They were affectionately, profoundly indulgent, watching the women they loved with adoration. Cruz leaned toward his best friend, a deeply satisfied smirk touching his lips.
"Let her have the fire dancers," Cruz murmured, his eyes never leaving Kinsley.
"I would buy her the moon if she asked for it," Kade agreed softly, his gaze locked firmly on Marcy’s serene smile.
***
A few days later, the coastal sun was shining brightly over the sanctuary.
Marcy and Kinsley had driven into the village, securing a small, wrought-iron table at the edge of the patio of their favorite seaside café.
The scent of roasted espresso and saltwater filled the air.
A discreet security detail was positioned out of sight, near the town square, allowing the women the illusion of complete privacy.
They were laughing over the ridiculous wedding dresses Kinsley had bookmarked on her phone, completely unaware of the darkness speeding toward them.
Gabriela Monroe had finally snapped.
Months of isolation, of festering venom, and social ruin had completely unhinged her mind.
She blamed Kinsley for everything. In Gabriela's twisted, delusional reality, Kinsley was the parasite that had infected her perfect life, stealing Marcy, and thereby stealing the devotion of the legacy heirs.
If Kinsley were removed, the infection would be cured.
Marcy would return to her side, and the world would right itself.
Gabriela rounded the corner of the café. She looked ragged, her usually immaculate blonde hair tangled, her designer clothes disheveled. Her eyes were wide, manic, and burning with a terrifying, hollow hatred.
She charged toward the patio.
The security detail, highly trained and instantly alert, moved with lethal speed. A plainclothes agent lunged forward, intercepting Gabriela before she could breach the perimeter of the tables.
"Ma'am, you need to step back," the agent commanded, grabbing her arm firmly.
But Gabriela had prepared for the interference. With a wild, guttural scream, she wrenched her arm free and reached into the pocket of her oversized coat.
She pulled out a matte-black handgun.
Panic erupted instantly. The patrons on the patio screamed, scrambling backward, knocking over chairs and shattering coffee cups. The security agents drew their weapons, but they were frozen, unable to fire in a crowded civilian area without risking crossfire.
Marcy stood up so fast her chair clattered to the cobblestones. The blood drained from her face.
Gabriela aimed the trembling barrel of the gun directly at Marcy.
"You are coming with me," Gabriela shrieked, her voice a hysterical, broken pitch that echoed off the village walls. "We are leaving! If you just get in the car with me, Marcy, no one needs to get hurt! Especially not her!"
With a violently jerky motion, Gabriela pivoted, aiming the gun squarely at Kinsley’s chest.
Kinsley froze, her heart stopping in her chest. She looked down the barrel of the weapon, the chaotic energy completely draining from her body, replaced by a cold, paralyzing terror.
"Gabriela, no!" Marcy screamed, stepping forward, holding her hands up in a desperate, frantic plea. The serene composure was shattered, replaced by sheer, unadulterated panic. "Please, put it down! I’ll go with you! I will go anywhere you want, just put the gun down and don't hurt her!"
"She ruined everything!" Gabriela wept, her finger trembling violently on the trigger. "She poisoned you! She has to go, Marcy, she has to go!"
"She didn't do anything!" Marcy cried, slowly inching her way between the gun and Kinsley, desperate to act as a human shield. "Gabriela, please, look at me! Look at me!"
But Kinsley Bennet, despite her terror, was fiercely, instinctively protective. She saw Marcy moving into the line of fire, offering her own life to save hers.
"Marcy, move!" Kinsley shouted.
It was a chaotic unintentional collision of movement. Marcy lunged forward to grab Gabriela’s arm just as Kinsley shifted her weight, stepping sideways to push Marcy out of the trajectory.
The movement startled the unhinged heiress.
Gabriela squeezed the trigger.
The gunshot was deafening. It tore through the tranquil coastal air like a thunderclap, echoing violently off the limestone cliffs.
For a single, agonizing second, the world seemed to stand still.
Kinsley’s chaotic eyes went wide. She looked down at her chest. A bright, terrifying bloom of crimson was rapidly expanding across the fabric of her yellow sundress, just below her collarbone.
"Kins?" Marcy whispered, the sound barely escaping her lips.
Kinsley’s knees buckled. Without a sound, the vibrant, brilliant woman crumpled to the cobblestone patio.
"NO!" Marcy’s scream of soul-shattering terror ripped through the village.
The security agents swarmed, tackling a screaming, hysterical Gabriela to the ground, kicking the weapon away, but the threat was already neutralized. The damage was done. It was over in less than five minutes.
Marcy dropped to the ground, her hands frantically pressing against the bleeding wound on Kinsley’s chest, her beautiful clothes instantly soaked in her sister’s blood. "Kinsley! Look at me, stay with me! Please, God, no!"
Kinsley’s breathing was shallow, a ragged, wet sound. Her eyes fluttered, struggling to focus on Marcy’s terrified face.
The screech of tires tearing around the corner of the village square heralded the arrival of the Lancaster-Tate convoy. The men had been only minutes away, driving into town to meet the women for lunch.
The doors of the SUVs flew open before the vehicles had even fully stopped.
Cruz, Kade, Connor, and Leon rushed the patio, their hearts in their throats.
Cruz broke through the perimeter of security agents. He stopped dead.
The smell of copper and spilled espresso filled the air. Marcy was kneeling on the ground, sobbing hysterically, her hands slick with blood, cradling an unusually still, devastatingly pale Kinsley in her lap.
Cruz Tate’s entire world violently, catastrophically shattered.
"Kinsley!" Cruz roared, a sound of pure, feral agony tearing from his throat. He dropped to his knees on the cobblestones, his hands reaching for the woman who held his soul, as the sky above seemed to fall apart.