She swings the gun, pointing it at Hawk, and I see red. Her face is in profile, but even from here I can see the intent in her eyes. She has no qualms about killing her son. If I was unsure about it before, the last of my hesitation disappears as I get to my feet.
I’m a trained killer. I know, once you make a decision and start down that path, you have to see it through to the end. So my decision was made the second I stood up, which is why, as soon as I have my feet planted firmly beneath me, I pull on the trigger, and the sound of a gunshot rings out around the room.
As the bullet shoots out of the chamber, time seems to slow down, and several things happen at once. Maria must see my movement out of the corner of her eye, as she turns her head, but keeps her gun focused on Hawk. Her eyes widen in surprise. At the same time, the two guards holding Barton spot me, and they drop their hold on him to reach for their weapons. No longer restrained, Barton dives forward in front of his son, just as the sound of a gun goes off.
That one was definitely not mine.
Chapter 24
Chaos erupts around me, but I don’t pay attention to it, swinging to point my gun at the guards going for their weapons. I’m faintly aware of the sound of more gunshots, and the other two men that were blocking Maria hit the floor.
My ears ring with the aftershock of the shots and the rapid pounding of rushing blood, and as I look away from the dead form of the guards and Maria, the world comes to a standstill. It takes me a second to process what I’m seeing, unable to tear my eyes away from the blood spatter on Hawk’s face.
“Dad!” he screams, and the tremble of fear in his voice is what breaks through my trance. As I blink back to the present, the reality of what I’m seeing crashes into me. Hawk is thrashing in his chair, trying desperately to get to Barton, who is lying unmoving in front of him, blood seeping out from a gunshot wound to his abdomen.
Beck rushes toward Barton, tugging off his top and pressing it to the wound. Barton’s face scrunches, and he groans, the only indication he’s still alive as Beck puts pressure on the wound, attempting to stem the blood.
Mason moves to quickly tear through the bonds holding Hawk in place, and he falls to his knees beside his father. “Dad.” The word sounds more broken this time, and it fractures something inside me. My heart breaks for Hawk, for what he’s about to lose, but it also bleeds for myself, for the relationship I never had the chance to foster. I have been going back and forth for weeks, but suddenly I realize how right Emilia was. I want to know the man who’s my father. And now I might never get that chance.
My feet are glued to the floor as I watch on in horror. The feel of Cam’s warm palm slipping into mine is the only thing grounding me right now.
“We need to get him to a hospital!” Beck yells.
Now free, West drops onto the ground beside Hawk, and Mason moves to Beck’s side and asks, “What can I do?” His expression is tight as his gaze darts over Barton’s supine form.
“Eliz—Hadley.” Barton’s weak croak has all of them pausing, and the way his eyes dart unseeingly back and forth, trying to find me, makes my heart hammer in my chest. My feet feel like they’ve been laid in cement as I watch helplessly, unable to move closer.
Cam places his hand on my lower back, applying gentle pressure to get me moving. “Go see him,” he whispers in my ear, his voice full of heartache.
With his support, I move over to where Barton is lying, and West shuffles out of the way as I collapse to my knees beside Hawk.
“I’m here.”
I hadn’t even realized tears were coursing down my face until Barton lifts a shaky hand to swipe them away.
“I’m sorry.” His words are a weak rasp, followed by a coughing fit that sounds horrendous and leaves him looking paler.
“Shush, it’s okay. Just rest.” I can’t look away from his face as the life seems to drain out of him, and he smiles feebly. I’m faintly aware of the guys' hushed whispers around me, but I can’t seem to concentrate on what they’re saying. All of my focus is on memorizing every crease and line of my father’s face, wanting—needing—something to remember him by.
“I wish I had the chance to know you better.”
The tears are flowing freely now, and Hawk wraps an arm around my shoulders as I sob. “Don’t say that. You will; we’ll get you help.”
He manages another small smile, but I can see it in his eyes. He knows he’s not getting out of here alive, but I refuse to accept that reality. I refuse to believe my luck is so fucking shitty that, just when I’m handed the opportunity to get to know my father, fate—the psychotic bitch that she is—is going to come and take it all away from me.
“Hawk.” The urgency in Beck’s voice has my gaze snapping up to his. “We need to move him.”
“Did you phone an ambulance?” Hawk asks.
Pursing his lips, Beck shakes his head. “They won’t be here in time. Mason can drive him to the hospital faster.”
Hawk gives a sharp jerk of his head, and between the five of them, they sort out how to lift and maneuver Barton out of the warehouse.
“Hadley, I need you to keep this pressed firmly against the wound, can you do that?”
My voice wobbles as I respond. “Y-yeah.” Beck holds my gaze for another moment before confirming I’m present enough to follow his commands.
“Mason, go bring the car around. Park it as close as you can get it, and be ready to fly out of here as soon as we’ve got him in the backseat.”
Nodding, Mason rushes off to do just that, and between them, the rest of the guys get Barton to his feet, with his arms slung over Hawk and Beck’s shoulders. The second he’s upright, I’m pressing the shirt against the bullet wound.
Awkwardly, the three of us move toward the door Beck and Cam came through. Glancing over my shoulder, Cam is helping West, who is looking worse for wear, with a black eye forming and blood trickling from a cut to his brow. As we approach the outer door, Cam runs ahead, propping it open as we shuffle through it, finding Mason pulling the car up.
Cam yanks open the door to the backseat, and Hawk and Beck carefully ease Barton into the car, so he’s lying across the seats. His eyes are closed and his breathing has this god-awful rasp to it that doesn’t sound good.
My hands are shaking like crazy when Beck clamps his hands over mine, taking the blood-soaked shirt from me. “You did good, sweetheart. I’ll take it from here.” He places a gentle kiss on my temple and climbs into the backseat, careful not to jostle Barton as he checks his vitals and continues tamping the wound. “We've gotta go!” he shouts.
“Hadley, get in!” Hawk barks urgently.
“What? No. You get in! We’ll get a cab and meet you there,” I insist, pushing Hawk toward the front passenger seat.
“No. I’m not leaving you.” Without waiting for me to argue with him, he pins West with a look. “West, get in. You need to be checked out anyway.”