His furious gaze met my hate-filled one. He pressed the gun harder. I knew he was itching to pull the trigger, but he wanted to torment me more first. I needed to keep him talking. To figure out a plan. To give Julian time to get here with backup.
“She’s mine,” I informed him. “She always will be.”
“She will forget you ever existed,” he mocked. “I’ll make sure of that. I will brand her so deeply, your name will be erased.”
“It’s going to be the other way around,” I replied, struggling against the pain and the blood soaking my shirt. “She hates you as much as your sister did.”
His eyes flickered, loathing and anger spilling from them, and I knew I’d hit my mark. He pulled back, lifting his arm, no doubt planning on inflicting some more pain before he killed me. The familiar sound of a knife slicing through the air surprised me, but not as much as it did him. He arched his back as the blade sank deep into his shoulder, and a small grunt of pain escaped his mouth. Another grunt, louder this time, happened when the second blade found its home in the other shoulder. He looked shocked, confused, searching for the source of pain and the reason he was now incapable of lifting his arms.
A third knife sailed through the air, and I watched it, mesmerized by the beauty of its flight. An inhuman sound left his mouth, and his eyes bulged, confusion and pain making his expression almost comical. The silver tip of the knife sticking out the front of his throat glistened with his blood.
My beautiful, strong woman had incredible aim.
I pushed him with my working arm, and he fell backward, the force of his fall thrusting the blades deeper inside him. Robbing him of speech, breath, and blood. His mouth opened, nothing coming out but incoherent gurgles. I picked up my gun and staggered to my feet, staring into the fading gaze of the man who caused so much harm to others. Who would no longer be a threat to Missy or anyone. I felt nothing but relief. No regret for the pain he was in or the fact that he would be dead soon. He lifted his hands, clawing at the air, desperate to breathe. To escape the pain. A trickle of blood fell from his mouth.
“How the mighty have fallen,” I mocked. “This was a simple plan too. I knew you would show up, and I knew you would try to take her.” I smiled coldly, pulling aside my shirt so he saw the protective vest I wore. I’d known he wouldn’t trust anyone else but himself to get her.
“I wasn’t going to allow that to happen.” I glanced over to the side of the room when movement caught my eye.
Damien lifted his head, confused but alive. The bulletproof vests I had insisted on protected my men. The same as mine had done for me. The fake blood pouches gave Zander a false sense of security, and our arrival had stopped him from finishing the job.
“You okay?” I asked, relieved.
Damien rubbed his head. “His guy pistol-whipped me. Egan shot him but took a couple of hits. Allen went down hard.” He reached for his phone, wincing. “I’ll call for a bus and backup.”
My sternum hurt from the bullets, so I could sympathize. My shoulder was on fire, but I had to ignore it until this was done. I was relieved to know my men were injured but not dead.
The same would not hold true for Zander.
I switched my attention back to the man dying on the floor. I held the muzzle against Zander’s head. “The devil is waiting, and he has a special place in hell for you,” I promised. “I hope you enjoy burning for eternity.” I smiled. “I’ll be living a life with Missy, filling her days with love and sunshine. She’ll never even think of you again. No one will even remember your name.”
His pain-soaked wheezes filled the air, and he struggled to talk. I refused to give him the chance. I bent close.
“Sayonara, motherfucker. I got the girl. You die.” I smirked. “I won.” With a final glare, I pulled the trigger, silencing him forever.
His body jerked and spasmed, then melted onto the floor. The hole in his forehead was neat and tidy. Blood seeped from his other injuries. His breath gurgled and stopped. I had finished him.
That had been my one absolute order. Unless it put Missy’s life in danger, I had to be the one to kill him.
And I had done it.
I collapsed, the world spinning out of control. I heard voices and running feet. Suddenly, Julian was there, barking orders, Missy hovering over me, begging me to stay, not to leave her.
I tried to tell her I wasn’t going anywhere. That I was fine. I’d been shot before and survived. But my tongue felt strangely thick, and I couldn’t seem to form the words.