“I’m not going to tell you, boy.”
“Fine.” I took the gun back from my Dash, aimed, and then shot out his kneecap. Bone crunched and blood splattered as he howled in what I was sure was agonizing pain.
Dash held him while I searched him for the key instead of asking him again. With the key in hand, I freed Lake and quickly checked her over before gathering her in my arms. Her silence scared me most of all.
With the gun back in Dash’s hands, I carried her out of the shed and away from the last two people who would ever get the chance to harm her.
“Talk to me, Lake. Please.” I sunk down to the ground with her in my lap. “What did he do to you?”
If I hadn’t been holding her face between my hands, I would have missed the small shake of her head. “You came,” she whispered low as if afraid if she spoke any louder, I would disappear.
“You scared me, baby.” I was content to sit there, holding her, but Reynolds screams only grew louder, so I sat her on the ground and handed her my cell phone. “Call for help.”
It was the only instruction I gave her before disappearing inside. My gloves were burning a hole in my back pocket, so I pulled them on but not before shaking them tauntingly at Mrs. Risdell. “Remember these?”
It had the desired effect. Her eyes widened, and she began sobbing and babbling incoherently. I pulled them on slowly and motioned to Dash and Quentin.
“Get them on their knees. I want them apart.”
Fortunately, for them, this would be quick and mostly painless. I didn’t have much time before the cops would show. That first gunshot would have alerted the neighbors. Reynolds grunted when Dash forced him onto his shattered kneecap.
“You can’t do this,” Reynolds screamed. “I’m a police officer.”
“Was,” Dash growled. “You were a police officer. Today, you’re just a dead fucker.”
Usually, Dash was the voice of reason, but what almost happened to Lake had left even the most reasonable person I knew feeling murderous. It only proved that these two needed to die.
“This is all your fault! You made my wife leave me!”
“No. You made your wife want to leave when you and your son chose to use her as a personal punching bag. I just showed her the door.” I still don’t know why Trevor’s mother chose me to help her. Maybe it was out of desperation to tell someone, but I only told her she had two options—to kill them or leave. She chose the latter.
“So who wants to die first?”
The gun was already pressed against Reynolds skull by the time I finished asking the question. Killing them was a no-brainer. I only wished I had the time to do it slow.
My finger pulled the trigger back, but just before I could feel the metallic click, the shed door flung open.
“Keiran!” Lake ran inside with a horrified expression. “Don’t do this!”
Shit.
“Wait outside,” I ordered without sparing her a glance. I could feel her gaze trained on me, judging.
“The police are coming. I could hear the sirens.”
“Then there is still time.” I stood back further and took aim.
“Don’t do this. This is an execution.”
“Kind of the point.”
“You told me that you once wanted to be good. You have that chance right now, Keiran. You never truly were what they tried to make you until now—if you do this.”
“Why do you want them alive after what they were going to do to you?”
“I want them dead as much as you, but not if it’s going to take you away.”
“She’s right, Keiran.” Dash’s reluctant voice made me look up. In my peripheral, I could see Quentin nod in agreement. “This is your chance, bro. Take it.”
I looked down at Reynolds kneeling before me and at Mrs. Risdell hovering in the corner. On the outside, I was steel and ice, but inside, I battled with the chance at redemption and the need to kill.
When I was a slave, I was forced to kill people who never wronged me. Here I had the chance to actually kill with reason.
I felt like it was owed to me.