Page 117 of Brutal Ice

“That why you’ve been killing her over and over again?” Royal asked. “Because you loved her so much?”

Leo’s left hand held the knife to her throat and his right hand—his right hand suddenly flew up in front of her. And that hand held a gun.

“No!” Violet screamed.

“Curl your fingers around the fucking gun grip,” Leo blasted. The knife bit into her.

She shook her head. The blade sliced deeper.

“Do it, Violet,” Royal urged her. “It’s okay.”

No, it was not okay.

The blade bit into her. She did not lift her hand. “You want me holding the gun while you shoot Royal. Not happening.” The hell she’d do that.

Royal’s nostrils flared. He edged closer to the desk. “Trying to get gunshot residue on her hand? What’s the end game now? Gonna make it look like a murder-suicide?”

Her breath froze in her throat.

“Yes.” Leo kept the gun on Royal. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do. Thought it would be extra fun for her to hold the weapon while I shot you.”

The knife dug deeper.

She refused to put her hand on the gun. She also refused to cry out in pain.

“But I can always just shoot you now, and then, after I’m done carving up Violet, I’ll curl her fingers around the gun and fire again?—”

“Or I’ll carve you,” she said softly. Then she drove her right elbow back as hard as she could.

You were the man in the garage. You, not Micah. And I stabbed you right here.

He screamed in pain. As he screamed, she uncurled her hand. The new switchblade Royal had given her rested in her palm. She hit the button, and the blade appeared. As hard as she could, Violet drove that blade into Leo’s upper thigh. Then she wrenched it to the side.

He howled. He also let go of her. She sprang forward, still desperately gripping her switchblade, and ran straight for Royal. He grabbed her and shoved her behind his body.

Boom.

The gunshot seemed to echo around her. And, honestly, for a beat after that blast, she could hear nothing but the frantic drumming of her own heart. “Royal!” He’d been hit? Had Royal been hit? Leo must have fired. She spun back around. Her frantic gaze swept over Royal.

She saw that Royal had his arm out and up. A gun was still in his hand. Her stare whipped from his hand to Leo.

Leo had stumbled back against the closed door. The knife had fallen from his left hand. His right still gripped his gun. He was trying to raise it up.

Royal shot him in the shoulder. The gun dropped from Leo’s fingers as he screamed in pain.

“Soundproof room,” Royal murmured. “You can scream as loudly as you want, and no one will come.” He looked back at Violet. “Stay behind me,” he told her. “Please, baby.” His gaze dropped to her throat. For just a moment, his rage broke loose. She saw it flare in his eyes.

“Royal?” Violet inched closer to him.

“Good job with the knife, sweetheart. Told you in the limo that I thought trouble was coming.” He looked back at the man who was bleeding by the door. “You counted on it being soundproofed in here, didn’t you? That’s why you followed us from the theater. You came in the back. Probably been to Punishment a few times, haven’t you? Scoping out the place. Hunting me.”

Hate twisted Leo’s face. “You should have…fucking left…my Violet?—”

“I would never leave Violet.” He took a step closer to Leo. “Violet, sweetheart, there is another gun in the top drawer of my desk. Get it, will you?”

She got it. The drawer was open. She put down her switchblade, and her sweaty fingers grabbed for the gun. Then she immediately took aim at Leo, too.

“You were going to shoot me. Make it look as if I’d attacked Violet and she had no choice but to kill me in order to survive.” Royal shook his head. “But you were going to make sure she died, right? That she fell victim to all the terrible wounds I gave her before she could end me.”

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