Page 61 of Ruthless Reign

He drew the long curved silver blade from a hidden holster at his back and charged, going in for the kill. I lifted my weapon, aimed, and shot it from his hand a split second before Darragh tackled him to the ground. The knife sailed into the sand, the metal warped and handle shattered from the shot.

Da gave me a nod of approval as Darragh struggled to keep the Saint down. Pauly had to help him as Damien thrashed and cursed, frothing at the mouth. Another shot rang out and my stomach lurched at the blood curdling cry of anguish that followed, but Da didn’t take one of the Saint’s sons. He shot Damien’s wife in the knee.

She’d managed to get free of Hardin and was racing toward her husband and the men pinning him in the dirt. Now, she clutched her bleeding knee as Damien shouted, succeeding in doing nothing but eating a mouthful of dirt.

Hardin was there with her, dragging his belt from his waist to tie a tourniquet around her thigh with blood coated fingers, shaking with rage as Zade helped him and the other unarmed Saints stood in frozen terror, not seeming to know what to do.

“Sloane!” Damien choked through the dirt as Darragh shoved his head harder into the ground.

This wasn’t the play. From the beginning Da said he wouldn’t take one of the Saint’s sons. Didn’t want to make a martyr. He was overplaying his hand. It was a risk.

Taking one of them could either work spectacularly at making Damien bend the knee or fail miserably. Give Damien’s men a reason to rally. To pick up arms and fight back.

But then there it was.

The fight Da wanted.

Maybe he never intended to allow the Saints to live at all. Maybe this was all just part of the show. More chapters and verses to add to the scripture of his bible. To root his reign in so deep that no one would ever question him again.

Ma always told him he had delusions of grandeur.

It was probably why she was dead now.

As I thought through every scenario I couldn’t come up with a single outcome where both me and the youngest St. Vincent lived.

“Do it, fuil ma chuiid fola,” Da hissed.

Blood of his blood or not, my father wouldn’t abide disobedience. If I failed to execute his order, he would execute us both. And Becca would lose two men who wanted to see her live. She’d be at risk without me. Without him.

I raised my weapon.

She’ll never forgive you, Ma’s voice whispered in my ear.

Kaleb realized he was wide open and raised his hands, steeling himself, his gaze fixed on the weapon aimed squarely at his chest.

Hardin looked up, his eyes going wide as I found my aim and prayed Kaleb didn’t move. He needed to be very, very still.

“Do it!”

“No!” roared Hardin, shoving to his feet, running. “Kaleb!”

Kaleb shut his eyes. Closed his jaw.

Please survive.

I followed the movement of his final breath, gauged the breeze, and pulled the trigger.

I didn’t get there in time to save him.

The bullet tore through Kaleb so fast I only caught the faint spray of red exiting his back before he slumped over, his eyes rolling back.

“Kaleb,” Ma wailed, shoving Zade’s hands off her as she limped on her shattered knee until she dropped next to him, pulling his limp body onto her lap, pressing her hands uselessly against the well of thick crimson flowing from his chest. “My boy!”

I couldn’t move.

Couldn’t think.

Kaleb.

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