Page 163 of Knights Game

I swipe the gun across his face again, the full force of my rage behind the hit. He falls forward, his groan turning into a laugh almost immediately.

“I just want you to know before I kill you, like you killed her, that everything you have built, will be destroyed. The Covenant will be gone by morning. My people will see to that, and Roman will find her.”

“You think this is the first time I’ve been on my knees? looking the devil in the eye.”

“No, but I do think this is the first time that the one holding the gun is going to pull the trigger.”

“So do it then.”

I fire at his shoulder, along with a second shot to his other shoulder, followed by two in each thigh. Ripping through bone, cartilage, nerves, and veins.

He falls forward and groans in pain.

“You fucker.” He wheezes. “Why not kill me?”

“Because it’s not for me to do. It’s for her.” I look over my shoulder at Layla, who is sobbing quietly on the floor. “I always said she would be the one to burn it down, and I’m going to give her the match.”

I reach into my pocket and lift out a bright yellow metal canister. I’ve been waiting for this moment. His eyes widen at the realisation of what I have planned, fear flickers over his face but disappears quickly.

“I do not fear death.”

I shrug. “No, but you’re afraid of being burnt alive, ever since my father died, you have that fear. And that’s what your fate holds, you fat fuck. Levi will take your seat, and he will have control of London with Duchess. The other Covenant members will be executed. The Covenant, as you know it, will fall. Along with the corrupt arseholes that helped you build it. There will be no rising from the ashes for you.”

“There will always be others. They will come for you, the Covenant roots run deep.”

“And there may well be.” I bend next to him. “But I’m already a dead man, you saw the photos.”

“Snow?”

“An unimportant question. Remember, Uncle, blood pays with blood. My father, my mother, hers, mine, enough of my blood has been spilled, now you will pay with yours.”

He grumbles something, panting as he tries to crawl towards the door. By how much blood is seeping out of him, it would seem I nicked an artery.

Shame.

Fate has others plans for Uncle John.

But do you remember what I said about fate? I don’t believe in it.

Fate is down to the actions of men.

I follow him, and douse him in the liquid, the smell of lighter fluid wafting into the basement.

He sneers at me. “You motherfucker.”

I kick him in his stomach before walking to Layla, untying the ropes that cut into her wrists, and gently lift her, she screams in pain her head lolling as she fights to hold onto consciousness.

“I’ve got you, sunshine.” I kiss her cold, clammy forehead. My own stab wound sends waves of nausea through me, I grit my teeth against the exertion.

I breathe heavily through my nose; when the adrenaline finally disappears, I’m going to be just as fucked.

I turn to the door, which John has made it to, a bloody trail in the wake of his fat slug of a body. I kick him out of the way and step through. Moving Layla carefully, I pull out my lighter, the gift from my mother.Burn it all downetched in.

Poeticjustice.

“Do it,” she whispers. Her eyes barely focused. “For our parents.”

“No, sunshine, you do it.”

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