Page 74 of The Devil's Daughter

The next few moments are a blur as something small, black, and lethal goes singing through the air. Karl lets out a yelp and drops to his knees, releasing both Drake and the gun as he flails at something between his shoulder blades. Drake’s limp body slumps to the ground and remains motionless. Please god, tell me he isn’t already dead.

Ben wastes no time sprinting toward him. He kicks the gun aside, then lands a solid punch to the side of Karl’s head, knocking him down. Karl rolls onto his belly, a knife jutting out of the center of his back as he struggles to crawl away.

Sam and I both emerge, running toward him and blocking his path. He scrambles, tries to rise, and turns to stumble the other direction, only to find a wall of Mad Dog in his way. The only way left is toward the verge, so he makes a solid attempt to flee in that direction. I keep my hand on the grip of my gun, but I don’t think I’ll need it, and I’m not wrong—Karl picks up speed, and none of us move to intercept. Ben’s the only one who breaks rank, squatting to check Drake’s pulse.

“Thank fuck. He’s alive.”

I’m relieved, but also too entertained watching Karl’s attempted escape, because the second he appears to think he’s home-free, two tuxedo-clad figures step out from the shadows.

“Fuck yes,” Sam says, then lets out a hoot worthy of a battle cry.

Marco Santos does no more than stand there, legs wide and arms crossed, blocking Karl’s retreat. Karl skids to a stop, wobbling on his feet. I hear him mutter a prayer as Marco steps closer, his equally imposing partner keeping watch at his back.

“We don’t need you alive, you know,” Marco says. “We already know Miles Sitnik hired you to kill Drake.”

“Please,” Karl says, falling to his knees once again. “I’m already dead because I failed. Corluka will torture and execute me.”

“I’m thinking we’ll wait until the man you tried to kill comes to and decides what we should do with you. If he wants you alive, we’ll let you live. If not…” Marco shrugs. “I’m sure any one of these guys is more than happy to put you out of your misery.”

Karl lifts his arm to reach for the knife in his back once again. This time he manages to snag the hilt and yank it out. But before any of us can react, he raises the blade to his throat, and in one smooth motion, slices. Blood gushes into his collar, and a second later he falls to the side, crumpling like a marionette with its strings cut.

“Fuck,” Sam mutters. “That was metal, but also really fucking disturbing.”

In the distance I hear voices, and one in particular sends tingles through my body. Ben’s head jerks up at the sound of Elle calling our names, but he doesn’t move from where he now rests on his knees, Drake’s head in his lap.

The crowd of our extended families comes rushing down the hill, followed by the curious gala attendees. Leo tries to corral them, and most of them stay at the edge of the lot, but our own group doesn’t stop.

Elle rushes to Drake’s side and drops to her knees. I take a few steps closer, and I’m about to crouch to rest a hand on Elle’s shoulder when Mason’s fiancée brushes past.

“I’m a doctor,” Callie says. “Let me take a look.”

Before she can shine her little pen light in Drake’s eyes, he lets out a deep chuckle. “Pretty sure that asshole’s beyond saving.”

Callie doesn’t miss a beat, glancing back at Karl’s unmoving body. “Yeah, but there are two other assholes who aren’t. Follow the light.”

She proceeds to check him out, including asking him some inane questions like what year it is and who the president is. He jokes around, but gets the questions right. When he sits up, accepting Elle’s embrace, Callie shifts her attention to Ben.

“You need a hospital,” she says, pointing at his bloody arm.

“It’s just a flesh wound,” he replies, rising to his feet. He starts to sway, and I’m at his side, arm around his waist before he can fall to the ground. He looks deathly pale beneath the stark lighting of the parking lot, his face coated in a sheen of sweat. “You know I hate hospitals,hermano.”

“Just let her take a look, okay?”

I ease him back to the pavement, where Callie helps him out of his shirt. Maddox squats on his other side and proceeds to rip the expensive fabric into strips.

“Looks like the bullet went straight through, but you’ve lost some blood. It’s clotted well, though, so cleaning and bandaging will likely be enough,” Callie says.

“I’ve seen worse,” Maddox agrees, glancing up at Leo, who joined us a moment ago and now stands between Celeste and Toni.

Callie takes the proffered strips of shirt and ties a makeshift bandage around Ben’s arm, then Maddox and I each take a side and support his lightheaded ass while we make our way back up to the museum.

Ben resists after a few steps, muttering Drake’s name as he tries to turn around.

“Right behind you,” Drake says. I glance back to find him bracketed by Elle and Sam while the others move on ahead of us.

“He’s checking out my ass, you know,” Ben says blearily.

“And a fine ass it is,” Drake retorts.

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