don’t get to touch me. Not until I know you won’t hurt any of them.”
His eyes narrow, but then they flit over my shoulder, and a moment later, I feel the danger behind me.
“Fuck, Addie, move!” Zade barks, but it’s too late.
A gun presses into the back of my head, distracting me long enough for his arm to come around and grab ahold of my knife, flinging it to the side.
Concrete fills my bones, my body turning to stone as he wraps his arm around
my neck and pulls me back into him, moving his gun to my temple.
“You forgot to check the attic,” the new intruder whispers in my ear. He drops
his arm from around my throat and slides his hand across my tailbone and down
my thighs, checking for any weapons, and then throwing them to the floor when
he locates them. He squeezes my ass for extra measure, and I can’t contain the
snarl from slipping free.
Oh, yeah. He’s going to die.
Tension radiates from Zade, his murderous gaze tracking the man’s
wandering hand. I bet he’s imagining all the ways he could remove it from his
body, just like he did Arch’s. Sibby is still, her eyes bouncing in every direction, probably calculating how quickly she can kill one of them before their gun goes off.
“Better be careful,” Zade murmurs, his eyes boring into the man holding me.
“That diamond has sharp edges.”
Baby face turns his weapon on Zade, “Shut the hell up. Both of you get
against the wall.”
Zade smirks, raising his hands in mock surrender, but the look in his eyes is
deadly.
Sibby refuses to budge, though, so the man storms toward her and grabs her
by the arm, attempting to haul her there himself. She goes wild, scratching at him and causing a massive scuffle.
Hooked on the inside of my sleeve is a pen gun—a handy little weapon Zade
got me. I put it there for a situation exactly like this, deliberately keeping it out of any apparent spots to hide a weapon. It only has a single bullet, but it’ll be enough.
The chaos distracts all the men enough to slide out the pen gun from my sleeve without any of them noticing.
Sweat beads across my hairline, and though adrenaline is running rampant in
my system, calmness overtakes me.
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.”