Page 112 of Ruthless Regret

The intruder smirks. "Always the charmer, Rook. And this must be your brother, Bishop. Didn't expect to seeyouplaying hero. That’s new for you."

When he lifts his left hand to wipe at the blood trickling from his nose, I see it—a burn mark across his knuckles. A jagged line, red and puckered.

“You!” I blurt before I can stop myself.

All eyes swing to me.

“You know him?” Rook asks.

I shake my head. “N-no, but I think he spoke to Zain’s mom just after the murders.”

“Ahhhh, now it makes sense.” Rook says, his voice amused. “You’re the hired help.”

Barlowe doesn’t reply.

Rook steps closer, his shoes making no sound against the kitchen tiles. “How did it play out, Marcus? First you were hired to kill Jason and Louisa,” he says. “Then you had to make sure the investigation went the right way. Now, since Zain is free and the case reopened, you had to cover your employer’s tracks by killing Ramsey. Wonder what your employer will say about you getting caught.”

A hint of a smirk tugs at the other man’s lips, though his eyes remain cold. “You think catching me changes anything?” His voice is flat, emotionless. “You think this really ends with me? You know how it works, Rook. Take me out, and my employer will just hire someone new.”

“Not in this instance.” Rook’s gun doesn’t waver. “You’re going to tell us who you work for.”

A cold smile spreads across Barlowe’s face, and it twists my stomach into knots. “We both know that’s not going to happen.”

“We’ll see. Everyone talks eventually.” He looks at the man still standing by the door. “Secure him.”

The other man,Bishop, reaches into his pocket, pulling out two sets of handcuffs—like he’d anticipated this. But the moment he steps closer, Barlowe lashes out, swinging his arm in an attempt to knock Bishop back. I flinch at the sudden movement, and stumble backward, barely keeping my balance.

Barlowe shoves Bishop hard, sending him staggering into the counter. He spins, his eyes wild, and tries to make a grab for me, his hand shooting out toward my arm.

“Enough!” Rook’s voice rings out, cold and commanding, as he steps forward, pressing the barrel of his gun into Barlowe’s temple. “You want to test me? Do it again, and see what happens.”

Barlowe freezes, his breathing harsh, his gaze flicking from Rook to Bishop. For a tense moment, no one moves. Then Bishop straightens, casually fixes the cuffs on his sleeves, and moves in again, this time with more force.

He grabs Barlowe’s arm, twisting it behind his back with a brutal efficiency that makes the other man grunt in pain.

“Stop fighting, or I will end this here,” Rook warns, his voice deadly calm, his gun still pressed to his head. “You know my reputation. You know I’m not bluffing.”

He struggles for a second longer, then relents, his body going still as Bishop forces the first cuff around his wrist. Once the other cuff is secured, Bishop shoves him down into the nearest chair. The loose cuffs are then attached to the arms of the chair.

“You really think this is going to work?” Barlowe asks, his voice dripping with disdain. He glances up, his eyes meeting mine for a brief, chilling moment. “You’re all wasting your time.”

“Shut up,” Rook snaps, his gun still aimed at Barlowe’s head. He turns his attention to me, his voice softening just a fraction. “You need to help Zain, Ashley.”

“He needs a doctor.” My voice shakes. “He’s going to die if we don’t do something.”

“There’s no time to get him to a hospital,” Bishop says, his voice calm but firm. “We’ll talk you through it. You can do it.”

I nod, not really believing him, but I try to push the fear aside and focus.

Bishop moves to stand in front of me, and the steadiness in his gaze calms me a little. “We need to stop the bleeding first. Do you have a first-aid kit?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.

“Check under the sink.”

I crouch and open the cabinet door. There’s a small first aid kit inside. Bishop gives an approving nod.

“Good girl. Open it up. We need gauze and something to clean the wounds.”

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