Hurriedly, I take aim on the greasy-haired man and click the button on the pen, the bullet ripping from the small weapon and through the man’s brain, killing him immediately.
The utter surprise is enough time for me to knock away the gun from my head, my captor’s reflexes delayed as he fires off a shot at my feet, scarcely missing my toes. The bullet ricochets, and I think I hear someone gasp, but I’ve already turned around and am sending my fist flying into his face.
My father is shouting through the tape on his mouth, but I can’t look now. My opponent slides a knife from his pocket and swings it at my face.
Rearing back just in time, the blade slices through the air within an inch of my nose. Grabbing ahold of his hand wrapped around the handle, I snap it back, his wrist breaking from the force.
He cries out, dropping the knife. Before I can land another punch, this one to his throat, his head kicks back, a hole now in the center of his forehead.
I turn with wide eyes, finding Zade tucking away his weapon.
“Sorry, baby. He touched your ass, therefore, I needed to kill him.”
A piercing scream distracts me, drawing my eyes to Sibby happily stabbing away at the man beneath her, while my dad squirms like a worm on a hook. His stare pinballs back and forth from the psychotic girl at his feet to his wife.
My eyes widen when I get a good look at my mother. Her head is drooping, chin tucked into her chest and blood soaking through her shirt.
“Oh my God,” I cry, rushing over to her. Zade reaches her first, pressing his fingers against her throat to feel for a pulse.
“She’s alive,” he breathes. “But her pulse is faint. She needs a doctor now.”
Tears immediately well in my eyes, and panic turns my brain to mush. I open my mouth, limbs frozen, and wide eyes locked onto my dying mother.
“Adeline,” Zade barks, and my eyes snap to him. “Focus, baby. I need you to come here and put pressure on the wound.”
Finally unlocking my muscles, I do as he says and press both hands against her chest. Crimson bubbles through my fingers, coating my skin within seconds.
Distinctly, I see Zade untying her bonds and then my dad’s. There’s a sharp command telling Sibby to stop grinding on the dead man beneath her, then Zade talking to Jay through his earpiece, but everything is drowned out after that.
There’s too much blood rushing in my ears. Too much anxiety eating me alive from the inside out.
“Mom,” I say shakily. Dad’s arms come around her, gently lifting her head and calling out her name. Tears are streaming down his ruddy cheeks, and it’s then I realize my own face is wet.
“Serena, hey honey, look at me,” Dad coaxes, but her eyes stay firmly closed.
“I need to lift her,” Zade says.
“Don’t you touch her!” Dad shouts, going to slap Zade’s arms away. “We need to call an ambulance.”
“Dad!” I exclaim, pulling a hand away to stop him. “Stop, he’s trying to help.”
“I will be faster than an ambulance, I promise you,” Zade assures, staring firmly in my father’s eyes. Dad is a rule follower. He goes by the book. And even in his mania, he understands that Zade isn’t taking her to the hospital only because he’s faster, but because we’ve all committed a crime, and he doesn’t want them to know.
Which means we’re not going to a real hospital, either.
Gritting his teeth, Dad releases Zade and lets him pick up my mom, her head flopping onto his chest as he stands.
“Everyone get in the car. Let’s go, now, Sibby.”
We climb the basement steps, tear through the house, and pile into Zade’s car-all of it a blur. I let Dad sit in the passenger seat while my mom is draped across mine and Sibby’s lap. I continue to put pressure on her chest, whispering to her softly to stay alive.
Zade must still have Jay on the line because he says, “Call Teddy and let him know we’re on our way. Gunshot wound to the chest.”
“Let me guess, there’s some made-up story you have, huh?” Dad snaps from the front seat while Zade tears out of the driveway and onto the road. He handles the car with ease, despite the unnerving speed we’re traveling.
“Well, no, not really,” Zade answers, not the least bit perturbed by my dad’s anger. “We’re not going to the police. And we’re going to a surgeon, with real experience-“
“We’re not going to the hospital?!” my father booms, his voice deafening. I flinch, heart pounding. I’ve told Zade before that my dad wasn’t an integral part of my life. He always lingered in the background, there but not really-kind of like Gigi’s ghost in Parsons Manor.
But there were a few times in my childhood where he raised his voice, and each time, it sent birds scattering off their branches and my back hunching in attempt to make myself smaller.
He’s a simple man, but he can also be scary.
“No, sir,” Zade responds casually. Nothing intimidates him, and if I haven’t had a close look, I’d think he has balls of fucking steel hanging between his legs.
“I don’t care who the fuck you are, you better turn this car around and take us to the GODDAMN HOSPITAL!” he yells, his face growing increasingly red, even in the dark of the car.
“Raise your voice to me one more fucking time,” Zade threatens, his voice deepening. “I guarantee you that I can knock your ass out without even swerving this car.” My dad rears back, eyes bugging with shock
“Dad,” I cut in before my other parent ends up getting shot, my voice soft but stern. “I would never let her die, and you know that. Please just trust us.”
His glare sears through me, but I don’t look away, my entire body beginning to shake from the mix of adrenaline, shock, and panic.
Scoffing, he turns away, muttering under his breath, “I can’t fucking believe this shit. Adeline, what the fuck have you gotten involved in?”
I frown. “I didn’t even do anything, Dad.”
He turns back to me with incredulity. “You think I didn’t see the three of you kill those men in cold blood? The little crazy one-“
“Don’t call me crazy!” Sibby screeches from beside me, causing me to flinch, the pitch hurting my ears. I pause, noting how manic she looks right now. Her chest is pumping, and her brown eyes are wild, like she’s a tiger cornered in a small cage.
Dad must see it, too, because he trains his glare onto me. “Don’t sit here and act like you’re the daughter I raised,” he barks. “You just murdered someone.”
“He was going to kill Mom,” I defend, in disbelief he’s lecturing me right now. He’s in shock and angry, and taking it out on me.
He clenches his teeth, baring them at me as he spits, “If she dies, this will be all your fault. That bullet hit her because of you!”
His words feel like a bullet of their own, hitting me right in the chest and punching the air out of my lungs.
“What?” I choke out.
“When you were fighting with that guy, and the gun went off,” he barks, his face reddening. He stares at me like… like I’m a monster. “The bullet ricocheted and hit your mother.”
My mouth opens, speechless. I remember it ricocheting but never saw where it hit, distracted by the man I was fighting with.
Wave after wave of guilt slams into me, and fuck… this is my fault. I blink, my vision blurring with a fresh wave of tears. It feels as if my chest is cracking wide open, my heart spilling out right alongside my mother’s.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.