Chapter 5 #2
It’s a short drive before his car stops outside an apartment building. Seth gets out, his phone against his ear, and nods to the doorman as he enters, vanishing from sight.
I move quickly.
After parking up, I make sure my gun and the device I need is in my purse. The streets are dark but busy, people panic-buying last minute gifts or waiting for cabs, maybe to airports to fly and see family. I stride toward the building, totally at ease, and flash the doorman an award-winning smile.
He doesn’t question who I am, or if I’m visiting.
My designer coat and handbag, paired with my confidence, gives me an air of belonging.
Slipping my hand into my bag, I activate the device and stroll confidently across the lobby.
The security guard frowns at his computer and calls for assistance on his radio, not even giving me a second look.
The cameras situated throughout the building have been knocked out, and from experience, I have around eleven minutes until they get them back online.
Seth is at the elevators, still distracted by his phone.
When he steps inside, I wait for the doors to close, then note the floor he gets out on.
I take another elevator. Soft music plays as I climb each floor, and I take out my black leather gloves, humming as I slide them on and stretch out my fingers.
The elevator dings and opens, just as Seth is unlocking his door and going inside.
I waste no time following.
Nine and a half minutes left.
He’s so arrogant he doesn’t even lock his door, but that’s to be expected from a Sinclair. They’re untouchable, or so they think.
I stride into the large, stylish apartment as if it’s my own. Floor-to-ceiling windows provide a beautiful view of the city, the lights sparkling against a darkened sky. For a moment, I take in the picturesque scene, the quiet before the bloodshed.
“You’ve broken into the wrong place, darling.” Seth approaches from behind the large, U-shaped sofa, a beer in his hand. He takes a swig from it, his ice-blue gaze dropping down my body. “Or the right place, depending on what you’re looking for.”
He takes casual steps around the sofa and sits in the center, exhaling before draping his arms out on the cushions either side of him, the bottle of beer dangling between his fingers.
He’s exactly how I remember him. Cocky, handsome, suave.
Just like his brothers. An acidic feeling unfurls in my chest, and I fight against the urge to shake, to run, to get as far away from a Sinclair as possible.
The girl in me wants to recoil. Fight or flight kicks in, and for the first time in years, I want to choose the latter.
If I run, maybe he’ll forget this ever happened.
But if I run, he’ll never pay for what he did.
“You don’t recognize me,” I say.
“I think I’d remember a face like yours.”
I tuck my hands into my coat pockets. “The last time you saw me was at a funeral fourteen years ago. I was sixteen. You were eighteen. You smiled at me that day, do you remember?”
His brows furrow gently. “I’m afraid I don’t.”
I take out the gun, and though his gaze flicks to it, he doesn’t flinch. I flick off the safety. “But I bet you remember her.”
Realization dawns, but he doesn’t pale or cower as he should. A slow, maniacal grin spreads across his face. “Lina?”
I swallow, the sound of my old name, the person I left behind, sending a slither of anxiety down my spine. “Bingo.”
“No fucking way,” he breathes. “You grew up very nicely. A true ugly duckling story. If I remember rightly, Ava was always the pretty one.”
Was.
Because of him.
I raise the gun, grateful that my body doesn’t tremble in his presence, because memories are splintering, infiltrating my calm.
Ava smiling. Ava laughing. Ava being taken from me.
Seth laughs. “Oh, Lina, really? Is this why you’ve reappeared? Come to slay the big bad wolf?”
“Come to slay all of you,” I whisper. “You just came up on my radar first.”
His bravado falters somewhat, and he glances at his beer. “I haven’t seen my brothers in months. Why do you think I have zero security?” He takes a swig of his drink. “Apparently I failed them.”
“Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?”
He chews his bottom lip, his cockiness slipping away. “You have no idea what it was like growing up in that house.”
No, I don’t. For parents to create such monsters, I can only imagine what they went through.
Of the seven Sinclair children, every single one has taken a life.
I may have struggled to find them, but I’ve followed their journey, the Sinclair Siblings tearing their way through states and defenseless women.
They’re not human. Not a single one of them.
But he won’t find sympathy in me.
“I don’t give a shit.”
I fire twice in his chest. He blinks, looking down at his shirt. Blood spreads across the once-white material, and it’s so pretty that I allow myself to admire him in the same way I admired the view.
Stepping forward, I fire again in his gut.
Not once does he stand or try to stop me.
His arrogance killed him quicker than the bullets.
Leaning over him, I grip his chin, and I’m grateful he’s alive long enough to hear what I say.
“Your brothers will be joining you in hell.”