CHAPTER 35

 

For the second time that night, I’m stunned that someone I have trusted explicitly could betray me like this. My lips tremble and I’m about to tell Marcel what I think of him when Finn seizes the opportunity.

“What the hell!” His voice is laced with utter bewilderment. “I got a text earlier that you and Tyrone—”

A pistol whip to the back of his head silences him. Marcel aims directly at me. “Wanna run your mouth off, too?”

With a clenched jaw, I shake my head. Tears burn in my eyes, but for the first time tonight, it’s not from pain or fear. It’s rage. If I was the one holding the gun, Marcel would be dead. His betrayal stings almost as much as Luke’s—he played us all for a damn fool and we blindly trusted him.

Luke lowers his rifle. “What do you want, Marcel?”

“What everyone wants.” Marcel smirks. “Money.”

Luke glares at Finn’s figure on the ground. He is out cold, but his chest is moving evenly. At least he is alive and isn’t bleeding. Maybe Marcel’s blow wasn’t as bad as it looked.

Luke’s gaze travels back to Marcel’s face, whose dark, cold eyes freeze the fibers in my bones. This is the look of a killer.

“How much is it gonna cost me?” Luke asks.

“A lot.” Marcel hisses when I twitch, his head shaking with a warning. “My boss ran into some legal troubles that prevent him from further employing me. I need to disappear. Make it a hundred grand and I’m out of your hair.”

Luke whistles. “That is a lot. What makes you think I got that type of money?”

Marcel’s dry laugh is like a bark and makes me sick to my stomach. “Don’t play games, pretty boy. We both know your daddy has been pulling strings in the background. It won’t be the first time he’s paid someone off.”

I gulp, refusing to accept this new revelation. “Roy knows about this?”

Marcel clicks his tongue. “You’re so naïve, Kelsey. Do you think your bro here could have pulled this off by himself?” With a smug smile, he glances at Luke. “Tell her, man. Open her eyes that she never had a chance to find justice.”

I realize that this goes far beyond what I imagined. Almost everyone I know seems to have their fingers in the pie.

Luke chuckles. “Who else do you think tipped Jed off when the police came to arrest him that night without a warrant? His old friend Larouge kept him in the loop when they couldn’t find a judge fast enough in the middle of the night to sign the paperwork, and it only took a couple of phone calls to set things up with the tape. My dad is so obsessed with me becoming a lawyer that he’ll do anything to make this go away.”

Only howling wind follows his words. I’m totally numb, the world crashing down on me. I was denied justice—not because of some screwup—but because the people around me are vicious liars. All Roy’s ranting and raging about Jed getting off was just a show, a well-orchestrated scheme to protect his son.

I shake my head, trying to focus. “But you beat up Jed!”

“Those beatings were warnings to keep Jed in line.” Luke beams, probably thrilled that he can finally reveal the truth. “After we sent you the book, he wanted out. He has always been a coward, and it was only a matter of time until he would’ve opened his big mouth. Shooting him was the only way to permanently quiet him.” The satisfied smile twitching on his lips is plain evil.

Marcel prods Finn with his foot, who responds with a moan. “He’ll wake up soon. Let’s get this over with.”

Luke’s eyes cut into me when he raises his rifle. “Sure thing.”

I want to squeeze my eyes shut but can’t get myself to tear my gaze off him. We glare at each other before he smirks—that same wicked grin that he had when he raped me tonight.

“On second thought—” His rifle swings around. A boom breaks through the night as it discharges. It takes me a second to realize that the bullet misses me—hitting Marcel instead straight in the chest.

In slow motion, I watch him fall backward, his body crashing to the ground. My mouth opens, but the scream is stuck in my throat. In that moment, my survival instincts take over. I dive forward, my eyes fixed on Marcel’s gun.

Without a second thought, my fingers clutch the grip. I whirl around, pointing the barrel in Luke’s direction. My eyes squeeze shut as I pull the trigger. Pain tears my shoulder apart. It feels like I’ve been kicked by a horse as the backward momentum from the gun pins me to the ground.

When bright light replaces the darkness, I actually think that I’ve been hit, and this is the end. I expect to float up and see my own body or walk through a bright tunnel to get to my ultimate resting place, but instead, loud voices echo around me. I cup my hands over my ears, refusing to listen, too afraid of what I might hear.

Someone pulls me on my feet and shakes me. “Kelsey, are you alright?”

I squint at Detective Larouge, trying to make sense of his question, before my eyes dart around to assess the situation. The mouth of the forest path and the clearing are filled with cops. A couple are crouched next to Finn, who is sitting up with an icepack resting against the back of his head. He is talking and seems fine. My eyes find Marcel, who lies motionless on the ground. A few officers huddle around him, one zipping his jacket open.

“He’ll live, sir,” she mutters. “The bullet went straight into his vest. Luckily, he wore a plate and it was only a twenty-two.”

My head is spinning, and I clutch Larouge’s arm when a bulky cop slaps the handcuffs on Luke. My brother can barely keep himself on his feet, blood spilling from his shoulder. His whole face is contorted into an ugly grimace. He struggles against the cops who pull him toward a waiting stretcher, yelling at them with a flood of colorful curses.

As he passes me, his eyes interlock with mine—they glow with so much venom that every part of me recoils. “This is not over,” he shouts in my face and I flinch backward. “I’ll get out of this, and when I do, you’re fucking dead. You’ll pay for this”—he tears on his handcuffs—“and you, too, Marcel.”

My lips form a response. I want to tell him to rot in hell for eternity, but no sound leaves my mouth. The momentary relief that Napoleon can’t hurt me anymore is replaced by an agonizing pain—my heart wails that I lost my brother for good.

“Are you alright?” Larouge repeats, his hand softly stroking my back.

I stare at him, my mouth dry like it’s filled with cotton wool. “I—I don’t know.” I glance around like a lost and scared animal—terrified of what the future might hold. Just as my knees are about to buckle, I’m pulled into a tight embrace, which prevents me from falling.

Finn’s face nuzzles into my hair. “Don’t worry, we’ll get through this. I’m here for you.”

I want to believe him and shout at myself that everything will be alright, but when the tears begin to roll, the terrible fear that I will never feel whole again traps me. Of all the possibilities, why did my tormentor have to be Luke?