Chapter Twenty-Seven
Hannah
The scent of gasoline filling the air makes me dizzy. Sweat beads on the brow of the bald twin as he sloshes it across the kitchen floor. Their leader hovers nearby, his head tilting from side to side as he studies me.
“You’re not getting out of that chair,” he reminds me for the third time tonight. Each warning comes after another attempt to strain against the ropes binding me. Getting free won’t save me immediately. It’ll probably just make them angry.
But waiting for the fire is a far worse fate.
“Where’s your lover, anyway?” Scarface raises an eyebrow, fiddling with his gold-plated lighter. “Thought he’d be storming the gates to get you out of here.”
I remember the sound of metal crunching against metal, and a shudder runs through me.
“He was in a car accident,” I say.
I doubt honesty will change what they’ve got planned for me, but it can’t hurt to try something different.
“I heard it over the phone before you got here. He’s probably dead.”
“Oh.” His nose wrinkles in disappointment. “Pity. He deserved a lot worse than a quick death.”
Disgust churns in my stomach. He’s only saying it to upset me. Making a terrible situation worse because he enjoys having that kind of control.
“But I can’t disappoint the boys.” He reaches out, brushing his fingers along my cheek as a sinister smile replaces the disappointed look on his face. “You’ll have to take his place instead. And I bet you’ll be a lot more fun than the masked lunatic.”
I jerk my head away, straining against the ropes.
I’d bite his hand. Draw blood if I could. But I’m certain it’d earn me a fist to the jaw.
“Speaking of the boys...” Scarface looks towards the hallway leading to Vik’s room. “What the fuck are you doing, Marv?”
There is no answer.
The two men exchange uneasy glances. Scarface signals to the other twin with a flick of his fingers before drawing a revolver. The twin drops the jerry can, pulls his pistol from his waistband and crouches behind the kitchen island.
“Marv, quit your bullshitting,” he calls. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
The tension thickens. A second attempt to reach Marv is met with the same silence. Then...
Heavy footsteps echo across the tiled floor.
“Don’t think you’ll be doing that, old son.”
Vik.
The sound of his voice fills me with so much relief I could cry. I look over my shoulder just as he steps into the light. He’s hunched over, one arm locked around the missing twin’s throat. His pistol is pressed firmly against the man’s temple.
“Nobody makes any sudden moves,” Vik says, his eyes drifting from Scarface to the kitchen counter.
“Because I don’t think these walls will look good in red.”
I can’t describe how happy I am to see him. After what I heard over the phone... I was sure he was dead.
But relief lasts only a heartbeat. Vik may have a hostage, but he’s still outnumbered. These men have already proven they don’t care about anything except getting what they want.
“Okay, okay,” Scarface says first. “Let’s all take it easy.”
Vik ignores him.
“Are you okay, Hannah?”
“I am.”
Apart from the rope burns, I’m unharmed.
“Good.”
He presses his gun harder against Marv’s head before looking at his brother.
“Ever wonder if twins look the same on the inside as they do on the outside? I have. And if you don’t come out from behind there... We’re all about to find out.”
Knowing Vik isn’t bluffing, the twin slowly stands and circles the island. He keeps his gun raised, even though he doesn’t want to shoot while Marv is under Vik’s control.
“What exactly do you think’s going to happen here, son?” Scarface asks, a twisted gleam in his eye.
“I’m going to kill you,” Vik says.
“That so?” Scarface flicks open his lighter. A thin blue flame dances above it.
“But first, you’re going to tell me why you killed my mother.”
Scarface laughs. “It wasn’t about your mother. It wasn’t even about your family. We came for something that ended up in the wrong fucking house.”
“The package.”
“Your old man got something that wasn’t meant for him. We were sent to get it back. Your mother got in the way.”
“Need I remind you you’re standing in a pool of gasoline? You’re outnumbered. Outgunned and outplayed.”
“Am I?”
With a flick of his wrist, Vik swings his pistol towards Scarface.
He fires two shots. Aiming low, Vik catches Scarface in the leg. He collapses to the floor screaming.
His revolver lands beside my chair and the lighter flies from his hand.
The free twin opens fire at Vik, but in his panic, hits his brother in the shoulder instead. Vik kicks Marv forward and away, before ducking behind one of the giant pillars that support the roof.
In the chaos, I struggle against my bonds again. Because I’m turned away from the commotion, I don’t see the fire start. But I do feel the heat engulf the room almost instantly.
I drop as low as I can, desperate to stay beneath the thickening smoke.
I rock the chair from side to side until one of the legs buckles and I crash to the floor.
The backrest splinters on impact, and I yelp as a jagged shard slices into my side.
It is not deep enough to stop me, but it hurts like hell.
I free myself from the ropes and seize my chance to grab the gun Scarface dropped after being shot. It’s a revolver with a barrel so short there’s barely anything left of it.
“Hannah?” Vik shouts over the crackling fire.
He’s crouched behind the pillar, shielded from the twins but still able to see me. He leans his gun around the edge, firing blind to keep the remaining twin pinned down without exposing himself.
“I’m—” I roll onto my stomach for a better view and see the second twin charging towards Vik’s pillar.
The words die in my throat. Surrounded by the growing fire, the twin barely looks human. Just rage embodied. Just violence. And he’s charging straight at Vik.
As with so many times before in my life, my body moves before my mind can catch up. My chest tightens, but I raise the revolver and pull the trigger.
The recoil nearly smashes it back into my face. The twin stumbles. One hand flies to his chest and the gun slips from the other.
He collapses beside his brother. The flames swallow them both.
I look at Vik. He’s shouting something, but I can’t hear him. My mind is still trying to process what I’ve done, while adrenaline drowns out everything else.
He reaches me a second later.
“Hannah, you need to get out of here. The fire’s spreading.”
“I can’t.” I shake my head, trying to steady myself. “Muffin’s still in my room.”
“Go get him, now. But don’t come back this way. Leave through the sliding door.” He helps me to my feet and urges me forward.
“You’re not coming?” I’ve come too close to losing him too many times tonight to leave him again.
“I have to take care of...” He doesn’t finish. He doesn’t have to.
This time... I understand.
After meeting these men, I know some souls are too far gone to save.
I hurry down the hallway without him and find Muffin panicking in my bedroom. I scoop him into my arms and race for the sliding door.
The moment I step into the cool night air...
A single gunshot echoes through Vik’s house.