More shouts. More shots. I didn’t even know where they were coming from. My head was pounding, and I still couldn’t see clearly. Blood covered my arm, but I held firmly to the back of Johnson’s neck until he stopped struggling, his face a mess of gashes. Just as I released him, a sharp blow to my gut sent me reeling to the side.
A burst of nausea trampled its way through me. I shook my head to try to clear it, and when I looked up, Davies stood over me, his gun in his hand and a smirk on his face.
“You get it all figured out, asshole?” he snarled down at me.
“I figured out you’re a dickless piece of shit,” I replied. “You can’t handle me yourself, so you have to pick on girls.”
“She has a nice, tight little pussy,” he said. “I figured you couldn’t fill it up.”
He stuck a finger in his mouth and sucked on it.
I pushed myself up, lashing out with one boot to his shin. Davies lost his balance and fell but kept hold of his gun. I grabbed for his wrist, and we rolled to the side. He cried out as he hit the glass, then wrenched his hand free and punched my gut with the butt end of the gun.
My left fist made contact with his jaw, and his head snapped back. It didn’t deter him, though. He punched me again with the revolver, knocking me back to the floor.
My head swam. I was on my back again, blissfully not in a pile of glass, but I could barely move from the dizziness in my head. I looked up to see Davies standing over me again.
“Time to pay, Arden,” Davies said as he raised the gun to my face. “Who’s the fucking hero, now?”
The blast rang through my ears, leaving me deaf for a moment. I waited for the pain, but there was nothing. For a moment, I thought I might be dead, but then I realized I could hear Lia screaming.
“It’s all right, babe,” Jonathan’s voice echoed from behind me. “You did good.”
I pushed myself up on my elbows and focused on the body of Kyle Davies lying near my feet. There was a gaping hole in the back of his chest and blood everywhere. I looked over to Lia who held my Beretta in her hands.
Her face was white.
The dust was clearing, and as my vision returned, the nausea subsided. I looked around the room to see Rinaldo standing in the middle of it, a gun in each hand. He was looking over the scene with his knuckles white against the pistol grips, his nostrils flared, and his eyes blazing.
There were no more shots.
I made my way over to Lia and kneeled in front of her. She still held the gun out at the ready as she looked into my eyes.
“I killed him,” she whispered.
“I know,” I replied. “It’s okay.”
She shook her head rapidly, and her hands clenched. I needed to get the gun out of her hand before she inadvertently fired it again.
“Give me the gun, baby,” I said softly.
Lia’s eyes were still wide, and her chest rose and fell rapidly. I reached forward and placed my palm over the barrel of the Beretta and gave it a bit of a twist, freeing it from her fingers. She collapsed into a heap as soon as I did, and I dragged her closer to me.
“It’s all right,” I told her. “You’re okay—I’m okay.”
“I killed him,” she said again.
“I know.” I held her to me. “You had to, baby.”
Rinaldo was holding Luisa gently by her good arm as he picked his way through the rubble, kicking at Rurik’s body in the process. Victor and Matthew both lay still, but I couldn’t tell if they were dead or just unconscious. Milena was holding Nick’s head in her lap, but his eyes were open and he was talking to her as tears ran down her cheeks. I looked toward the window and saw Micah’s body bent at an awkward angle on the floor.
“You okay?” Jonathan asked.
“I think so,” I said. I looked down to my leg. The tear in my jeans revealed the bullet wound across my calf. “Hurts like a bitch, but it’s not serious. We need Doc Franklyn.”
“I’ll get him,” Jonathan said.
“Call in a cleaning crew, too,” Rinaldo called out as Jonathan stood and headed out.