37 CONNOR
I stopped the car in front of the ruins of the abandoned hotel. The blue sedan was parked a few yards ahead. I knew I was in the right place.
“Hold on, Sam,” I murmured to myself. “Hold on, sweetheart.”
I carefully opened the door to what had once been the reception area. Isis was probably expecting me. She knew I’d find her. That whole spectacle at the warehouse was part of her twisted little performance.
When I reached the courtyard, I went straight to the room where Sam’s parents had stayed.
The place where they’d probably been murdered.
I crept up to peer through the window. Sam was tied to the foot of the bed, half-naked, a wound on her leg held tight by a tourniquet.
I couldn’t see her face, but I knew it was her. This time, it was her.
I couldn’t see the man who’d been driving the car—after all, Isis couldn’t have gotten Sam out of the warehouse without us spotting her or catching up.
My fingers reached for the doorknob, ready to go in, when I felt a heavy hand yank me back. A punch nearly caught my chin. The fight would’ve escalated if the bastard hadn’t pointed a gun at my forehead.
“No need to sneak in, Detective. You were invited.” Isis appeared in the doorway. Her hair was chopped short at chin length, like Sam’s. Her eyes, unlike Sam’s, had literal heterochromia—one iris was two different colors. That’s why she’d worn contacts when she approached Sam in the Azur bathroom.
“You can get your hands off me. I’m unarmed,” I said to the man frisking me between the legs.
Isis led me to the bed, watching as I sat down. Sam was crouched there, tied to the bedframe. I was trying to see her face when Isis grabbed my chin and turned it toward her.
She was a few months older than Sam. From what I’d gathered, her mother married Cohen around the same time Sam’s mother got pregnant. She was already pregnant at the wedding. The girls were born months apart. But aside from a few physical details, their similarities ended there.
Sam, despite being an orphan, was raised in a loving home with Abuela Carmen.
Isis, on the other hand, endured a life without her mother, who died a few days after giving birth.
Isis got emancipated at sixteen and lived in England until I shot her father and she had to drop everything to take care of him.
She had to go back to the abusive home to care for her abuser.
“You’re even more handsome in person.” She pressed her lips to mine.
Sam slowly lifted her head and looked into my eyes. A tear ran down her face, and I felt like I was letting Isis drive another knife into her flesh.
I pushed her away gently. Just enough to create some distance.
“Ah, she wants to watch?” Isis pulled me in again, aggressive this time, going for another kiss, but I held her back. Her eyes, which had been tender until now, went dark. “Are you afraid of falling in love, Detective?”
“No.” I eased her back gently. Isis was like a fragile box holding something dangerous and volatile. One wrong move and everything would descend into chaos. I needed to handle her with care.
“Then kiss me,” she ordered.
“I’m here to work out our situation.”
“Kiss me.” She glanced at the brute standing like a statue in the corner of the room. “Or Luigi puts a bullet in her head.”
The man pointed the gun at Sam, and my whole body went rigid.
“Kiss me like you kiss her,” she murmured, trailing kisses along my jaw.
Sam, who’d been looking into my eyes, lowered her head.
“I want you to watch!” Isis screamed, kicking her.
“Hey, hey.” I pulled Isis back. “I can do this.”
I took a deep breath. I can do this.
I ran my fingers along her neck and looked into her eyes. I tried to stay focused on my plan. I had one. I just needed the right moment to make my move.
Kissing another woman would be hard after knowing what it’s like to kiss someone you’ve devoted every thought to.
Every heartbeat. Every breath. Keeping Sam in my mind the moment my lips touched Isis’s was like clinging to the last thread of light and praying it could save me from the darkness drowning my flesh.
I’d do anything for her. I’d promised. Even if it tore my soul out.
When I let go of Isis, she kept her eyes closed for a moment.
“That’s how my father felt, little sister. When he watched from that window as your mother and father made up, even after he knew about you. About how your whore of a mother destroyed my family!” Isis screamed.
“It wasn’t my fault…” Sam whispered.
“NEITHER WAS IT MINE!” Isis kicked her again.
I tried to step in, but Luigi turned his attention to me, and I sat back down.
I tugged my pants up a bit and searched for Sam’s eyes, hoping she still had the strength for one more act. Her eyes met mine, and she nodded.
“Is that how he killed them?” I asked, drawing Isis’s attention. “He probably told you. Or made you read about it? Your father was good with words, right? He liked writing poetry.”
“Those damn notebooks.” Isis seemed disturbed by the memories. “He told his disgusting stories like he was some great hero. His favorite was the first one—he described it as the most visceral love story.”
“Is that how he killed your mother? Did he tell you that story too? I couldn’t find any record of your mother’s case, but I’m sure she wouldn’t have left you behind.”
“You're trying to get inside my head, detective. Sorry… you'll never reach those depths.”
“It must have been hard. She wasn't Catarina and you weren't Sam. Your father came home and you felt the darkness return with him. Until one day it consumed you.”
“And it's going to consume my little sister too.” Isis yanked Sam's head back, staring into her eyes like a vulture. Luigi kept his attention on me, though his gaze kept flicking to Sam.
When he got distracted for a second, I lunged at him and we crashed through the window onto the balcony. We traded punches and kicks while I tried to reach the gun I'd hidden in the broken floorboards seconds before getting up. Just as I sensed an incoming blow, I heard the balcony wood creak.
With no options and no time to think as Luigi leaped at me, I fired three times—the fourth shot misfired. He fell and I heard Isis scream. I ran because everything was about to blow. Isis was about to lose it.
She was about to strike Sam with the khopesh when I rushed to stop her.
I threw her onto the old furniture and it collapsed.
Isis barely hit the floor before she was back up.
The khopesh had slid toward the bathroom entrance, about two feet from both of us.
We locked eyes—then she bolted for it while I dove for the gun on the floor.
I only had one chance because any injury to Sam now would be fatal.
Isis raised the khopesh, ready to plunge it into Sam's skull. I aimed my gun, but before I could fire, Sam drove my pocketknife into the back of her knee. Isis dropped instantly. The sharp khopesh fell and embedded itself in the floor.
Sam collapsed while Isis screamed in pain. I ran to her and tore at the rope binding her arm. But before I could get her out of there, Isis jumped on my back, my pocketknife in her hands.
“I'm going to kill you!” she screamed, trying to plunge the blade into my neck.
I slammed her back against the wall to get her off me and we both crashed into another room.
The building's structure was completely compromised, making Sam's presence even more dangerous.
When I got up and she ran toward Sam, I drew my gun—this time I was ready to make sure the myth of Ammit died here.
“Give my regards to your father,” I murmured before pulling the trigger.
The bullet hit her head and her body crumpled lifeless to the floor, just in front of Sam. I rushed to Sam's side. Her lips were blue and her skin was cold.
I gathered her carefully in my arms and carried her toward the entrance. Before I reached the car, Sam went into cardiac arrest. I laid her on the ground and started chest compressions.
“Come on, little one. We're almost there,” I whispered breathlessly, pressing her chest over and over. “You're not done driving me crazy yet.”
I pressed my ear to her chest, listening for any sign of life. Sam wasn't responding.
“Come on, Sam,” I roared. “Damn it, Sam. Fight, Sam. Fight!”
I was so focused on bringing her back that I didn't hear anyone approach. When Ahmed's hand landed on my shoulder and pulled me away, when the paramedic took over, I just watched the world spin.
“Connor?” Ahmed's voice sounded distant.
And everything went black.