Chapter 20 #3
A gun killed Michael. It’s killed a lot of people.
His words echo through my head—main hall. Michael said they’re in the main hall.
I have to stop this before anyone else dies. Before I lose anyone else.
But I can’t just leave Michael here. I can’t just walk away from his body like he didn't matter.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, wiping my nose against my arm. I don’t know if I’m apologizing to Michael, to Marcus, or to all of them and their loved ones. “I’m so sorry.”
Then I run.
I pass through the kitchen where the smell of smoke is overwhelming, and windows are shattered.
Bullet casings crunch under my feet like broken glass.
Something is burning on the stove that’s been burning since the attack started.
The smell of burned food mingles with smoke and blood and creates something nauseating.
I have to stop and brace myself against the counter for a second, my head spinning. When did I last eat? This morning? I can’t remember. My stomach is churning with morning sickness or fear or the smell of death, I don’t know anymore.
Deep breath. Keep moving.
I rush through what used to be a sitting room and is now just rubble and bodies.
The windows are gone entirely, blown out by explosions or gunfire.
There’s glass everywhere, embedded in the walls and glittering on the floor.
The furniture is destroyed. The beautiful antique sofa I once admired is now just splinters and torn fabric.
But I can hear voices now. No, I can hear shouting voices.
My father’s voice, raised in fury. “You took my daughter! You took her!”
My heart clenches. I’ve never heard him sound like that. So out of control. So broken.
And Leo’s response, so devoid of emotion. “She’s not yours to take back.”
Oh god. Oh god, they’re going to kill each other.
I’m sprinting now, the gun heavy in my hand, my breath coming in gasps. My feet are slipping on blood and god knows what else, but I can’t slow down.
Around the corner, through the archway, and—
I skid to a stop so fast I nearly fall, my shoes slipping in something wet I really don’t want to identify.
The main hall.
It’s worse than anything I’ve seen so far. It’s worse than I even imagined.
There are bodies everywhere. I try to count but lose track after twelve.
Maybe fifteen. Maybe more. Brennan men and Santoro men mixed together in death, impossible to tell who was winning before it ended.
The walls are pocked with bullet holes. There are dozens of them, maybe hundreds, and every painting is damaged or destroyed.
The chandelier is hanging at a dangerous angle, half its crystals shattered on the marble floor.
The marble itself is cracked and stained with blood. So much blood.
The smell is overwhelming and my stomach heaves, but I swallow it down, even as my mouth fills with saliva.
But all I can see is them.
Leo and my father are in the center of this carnage, circling each other like wolves sizing up prey.
They’re both hurt, bloody, and barely standing but too stubborn or too determined to fall.
Leo’s shirt is torn and soaked with blood on his left side.
I can’t tell if it’s his blood or someone else’s, but there’s so much of it.
His face has a cut across the cheekbone that’s still bleeding, dripping down his jaw.
His knuckles are split and raw, covered in blood and his right arm is hanging slightly wrong.
It’s not broken but definitely injured. But his eyes are focused, laser-sharp, locked on my father with the kind of intensity that means he’s about to kill someone.
His guns are steady despite everything, both pointed at my father’s head.
My father looks worse.
There’s a gash across his forehead that’s dripping blood into his eyes, making him blink rapidly to clear his vision.
His left arm is hanging at an odd angle, and it’s definitely broken or dislocated.
His shirt is torn open and I can see bruises blooming across his ribs, dark purple and yellow.
He’s favoring his right leg, but he’s still holding a gun in his right hand and a knife in his left, and his face—
Fucking hell, his face.
It’s twisted with rage I’ve never seen before. My father, who prides himself on always being calm and three steps ahead of everyone else—has completely lost control.
He looks feral and broken. It scares the shit out of me.
“She chose to stay?” he roars, taking an unsteady but determined step closer to Leo. “You brainwashed her! Manipulated her! Used her! My daughter would never—”
“Your daughter has a mind of her own,” Leo snarls. “Something you never bothered to notice.”
“Don’t you dare—” my father starts, but his voice cracks. “Don’t you dare tell me about my daughter! I raised her! I protected her! I gave her everything!”
“Everything except the freedom to choose,” Leo responds.
“I will kill you!” my father screams, and I can see his finger tightening on the trigger. “I will kill you and everyone you’ve ever—”
Leo’s finger is tightening too, and I gape at it in horror.
They’re going to do it. They’re actually going to kill each other right here. I’ve come too far and fought too hard to watch this happen.
I didn’t escape that fucking panic room just to watch the two men I love most in the world kill each other.
“Stop!”