Epilogue
MATíAS
I ran up the steps, but when I heard shouting behind me, I glanced over my shoulder.
My brothers were surrounded by the soldiers. What the actual fuck was going on?
I could stay and get them free, or I could save Amorette. All my life, I’d worked to get in their good graces. Finally, just when I was making some level of traction with them, I was slapped with this decision.
Help my brothers or save their girl.
Valentina ran through the door with the soldiers, but she wouldn’t help Amorette. She was too much like Vicente.
Grey slashed one of the guards, and then all four started to hack through the soldiers.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
They were going to be put in the chambers no matter what now. I wouldn’t be able to save them. Not right away, at least.
But I could try and help Amorette. I’d claimed her in front of the Institution. They’d let me take her. Unless she really did kill Vicente.
Making a snap decision, I ran to the door. The soldiers were lined down the hallway, and several were coming out of one room. There was no yelling, no fighting, even though that had to be where Vicente had taken the girls.
Collecting myself, I pulled my shoulders back and held my head up. The most important lesson my father had ever taught me was that people respected powerful men. Powerful men were always confident and never showed any doubt or weakness. They were also level-headed to outthink their opponents.
My father was all about mind games. Probably the only lesson he ever taught me that didn’t come with pain.
I strolled into the room and stopped short. Valentina was crouched over our father, her shoulders shaking with silent cries.
Amorette was boxed into a corner, terror bright in her light blue eyes. Steffan had her head yanked back by her hair and a knife at her neck. Another had a gun pointed at her face.
I ignored the way my pulse thudded in my ears as I searched for any wounds on her. She was covered in blood, just like the other girl, and a bruise was starting to form on her cheek, but I couldn’t see anything else.
On the other hand, Vicente had a wicked black knife sticking out of his chest. He’d been stabbed four, maybe five times before his throat was slashed. The neck wound was what killed him, but the knife was sticking out of his chest.
“Kill her!” Valentina yelled. She raised a finger and pointed right at Amorette. “Fucking kill her!”
“No!” I yelled and dove.
To be continued in Psycho …