Chapter Thirty-Two #3
Three words that my brain produces without flinching, which means the flinching must be happening somewhere deeper, somewhere the words haven't reached yet.
I killed my brother. I took the life of the only sibling I ever had, the only blood remaining in the world who shared a childhood with me, who existed in the past…
before the war and the cartel and the warehouse and Xaden, all of it, and I did it with a kitchen implement in the house our father built.
I did it because he was going to kill my baby.
I hold onto that. I press both hands flat over my stomach and I hold onto it, the way you hold onto something solid when the ground shifts, not because it makes what I did clean, simple or without cost, but because it is the truth and the truth is the only thing I have left to stand on.
He was going to kill my child.
He had a gun pointed at my stomach.
He looked me in the eyes and told me exactly what he intended to do and why.
And I chose my baby over my brother.
I will live with that every day for the rest of my life.
I understand that already, sitting on this cold marble floor with blood drying on my hands.
Not the dramatic understanding of a person who has just done something terrible and is narrating their own guilt in real time.
It is the quiet, settling understanding of someone who has looked at the full weight of a thing and accepted that she is going to have to carry it.
That there is no putting it down. That she will carry it the way she carries KennaDee, the way she carries the year at Walter House, the way she carries every scar this family carved into her, not as punishment but as the specific gravity of a life that was never going to be simple.
I survived.
My baby survived.
I press my forehead to my knees and breathe.
In. Out.
The gas hiss has been building the whole time I was sitting here.
I registered it somewhere underneath everything else, the smell of it, the specific domestic wrongness of it in a kitchen with no burners lit and I understand what it means and what I am about to do and I understand that I have made a decision I haven't finished making yet.
I lift my head.
I look at my brother one last time.
“I forgive you,” I say. The words come out rough and certain.
Not because I have arrived at forgiveness naturally, not because the grief has burned clean and left something peaceful behind but because I refuse to carry his sins as well as the weight of ending him.
Because KennaDee would want me to say it.
Because the girl I used to be, the one who loved him past all reason, deserves to have someone speak for her.
“I forgive you. And I'm sorry I couldn't save you from who you became.”
He doesn't answer.
He's not going to answer.
I push myself to my feet.
I have to move.
“Well, well, well.”
The voice comes from the doorway.
I spin around, and my blood turns to ice.
Deputy Director Fiona Williams.
She stands there, gun drawn, perfectly calm.
“I have to say, I'm impressed,” she continues, stepping into the kitchen. “I didn't think you had it in you to kill your own brother. But then again, you Kellars always were good at destroying each other.”
“What are you doing here?” I demand, my voice shaking. My whole body is trembling and I can’t control it, my adrenaline is dissipating and the second the last ounce of it leaves my body I know I’ll crumble into a heap on the floor but I can’t allow that to happen, if I do… I’m dead.
“Cleaning up loose ends,” Fiona says simply.
“Masen was useful for a time, but he was becoming a liability. Too emotional. Too focused on revenge against Xaden instead of the bigger picture.” She is the most vile woman, she uses people like pawns and treats them like they are expendable.
This whole fucking war is over a woman scorned.
She steps over Masen's body without even looking at it.
Without an ounce of care of the life lost. A life taken too soon, well before it’s time.
“But you—you're the real prize. Alex Denver's protected little project. The girl who brought the Denver Kings back to town. You brought The Butcher to me on a silver platter without even knowing it. You’re the pregnant girl everyone's trying to save.”
She raises her gun, pointing it at me.
I’m so fucking sick of having guns pointed at me!
“Killing you will hurt so many people. Xaden. Carnage. Caspian and even Alex. He’ll be pained by your loss because it’ll hurt his little brother and one of his best friends. All of them will know they failed to protect you.”
“You're fucking insane,” I breathe.
“I'm practical,” she corrects. “And you're a threat. So you have to die.”
She aims at my stomach—just like Masen did.
“At least I won’t die a rapist and an addict like your brother.
” Her face morphs into a picture of fury, I found her weak point and now I know with utmost certainty that this fight was never about Xaden and his family or even mine for that matter.
She used her power and position to manipulate Lorenzo and Steven into working with her and pushing them into Hollow Hills in the hopes of drawing out The Butcher, the man who slaughtered her piece of shit brother.
“Let's see if we can get both of you with one shot.”
I dive behind the island as she fires.
The bullet hits the cabinet where my head was a second ago.
Fear grips me in its clutches.
Carnage’s words slam into me with a force.
Never freeze, never lock up.
“Don't make this difficult!” Fiona shouts. “You're just delaying the inevitable!”
“Fuck you and go to hell!” I crawl along the floor, searching for anything I can use as a weapon.
My hand finds the gun Masen dropped.
I grab it, checking—one round left in the chamber.
I’m suddenly so grateful for Carn and him teaching me about guns and how to shoot.
I’m not a great shot but I can shoot well enough to subdue someone long enough for me to escape.
I can feel it in my bones, she won’t quit trying to come after me, not for the cartel but because of what my pain will mean to those around me.
Hurting me means hurting Carnage, which in turn hurts Alex.
Xaden is now someone she wants to maim just as much as Alex because he didn’t roll over when our fathers planned the crash. He fought and stood against them in the name of justice. Him fighting them meant Fiona being pushed out, she knew Xaden would never work alongside her.
“Come out, Toren,” Fiona calls. “I'll make it quick. That thing inside you won't feel a thing.”
Rage floods through me again.
This bitch wants to kill my baby.
First Masen.
Now her.
Everyone wants to hurt my child.
I’m so fucking sick of everyone wanting to kill me and my baby!
I stand and aim the gun at her with shaking hands.
Fiona sees me and laughs. “You've never fired a gun in your life.”
“You sure about that?” I sneer.
And pull the trigger before she can shoot me first.
The recoil nearly knocks me over, but the shot goes wide, hitting the wall beside Fiona.
She doesn't even flinch. Just stands there with a smug smile on her face and a dark look in her eyes.
She raises her gun and fires back.
I drop behind the island again as bullets slam into the marble. A scream lodges in my throat, I won’t give her the fucking satisfaction. Terror is clawing at me, I’m backed into a corner with nowhere to go.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
The gun in my hand is empty now.
Useless.
I crawl toward the stove, keeping low to the ground and searching for another weapon.
My hand finds a cast iron pot.
Heavy. Solid.
It may not be a gun or a knife but it’s all I got and I’ll fight with everything I have to survive.
Fiona rounds the island, gun aimed at me.
Our eyes lock and I feel the same shift inside me that I did a moment ago with Masen, I allow the cold feeling of the darkness to seep through me, it flows through my veins like liquid.
I cling to it and embrace the numbness it offers.
I see now why Xaden gave into this feeling.
It’s addictive and empowering.
The draw of the power is alluring, the numbness consumes me and shuts down the fear that was pulsing through me mere seconds ago. My mind is clear, sharp and I’m poised and ready to strike when the opportunity presents itself.
“Nowhere left to run,” she says. “All your father and Lorenzo had to do was follow my orders, do as they were told, but they couldn’t even kill their own fucking sons! Men are useless. All that fucking accident did was make my life harder, I was so close to getting that murdering bastard Alex.”
I wait until she's close enough allowing her to get lost in her spiel about Alex. I grit my teeth to keep silent.
“I had to put my own plans on hold to clean up the fucking mess those idiots and Xaden made. Steven should have left you to rot in that place, your presence back here ruined everything. I lost my informants. Xaden got worse—”
Now!
The voice inside my head screams, I swing the pot with everything I have when she is in reach.
It connects with her wrist and the gun goes flying.
Fiona curses and lunges at me.
We crash to the floor together, both fighting for dominance.
She's trained. Professional. Strong.
But I'm desperate.
And desperation makes you dangerous and unhinged.
I claw at her face, going for her eyes and attempting to push my thumbs into her sockets.
She blocks and drives her fist into my ribs.
I cry out as pain explodes through my side, but I don't stop.
Can't stop.
I grab her hair and slam her head against the marble floor. She swings her arms aimlessly, she manages to land a couple of blows. I feel nothing as the monster inside me blocks everything out. I keep slamming her head into the marble until she goes limp beneath me.
I stare down at her and slowly the darkness and bloodlust begins to recede and panic overwhelms me.
She’s the fucking Deputy Director of the CIA! It doesn’t matter if she was dirty or not, the whole department will come after me and ensure I rot behind bars if I have killed her.