Page 110 of Vengeful Union

He hadn’t killed her himself. God forbid he get his hands dirty. But he’d killed her nonetheless, given the order that got it done.

“You killed my mother.” I laugh at him, finally standing up to my full height. “Now, what, you’re going to shoot me, too?”

“You’re my son. I don’t want to shoot you, but if you don’tlistento me?—”

“Listen to what? Listen to you give me a million excuses why you murdered the woman who gave birth to me?”

He walks toward the open door, keeping the gun trained on me, but I don’t take my eyes off him.

“Running scared,Dad?”

Before I can taunt him further, he reaches out the door, grabbing Lara and pulling her inside.

“I’m sorry, Rory, I was scared—” Her voice cuts off when he presses the gun into her torso.

“I’m not going to killyou,son. Think I’ll kill this Burke bitch you’ve grown so attached to, teach you a lesson.”

I jump over the desk before I know what I’m doing, going for his throat, and he lets her go, shifting to jam the gun between my ribs.

Lara steps out of his reach but doesn’t leave as I wrestle him, hitting my hip hard against the edge of the desk, pain rocketing through me. I can’t focus on it, though, struggling with my father to keep his arm up, keep him from pulling the trigger.

It all happens so fast, but when his hand turns again and he points the gun in Lara’s direction, I know I have to make a choice.

I keep one hand holding his and take out my gun from my back, pointing it at his chest.

He smirks at me. Maybe he thinks I’m bluffing.

And maybe I am. I don’t want to shoot my father. I want him alive so he can pay for all his sins.

His finger tenses to squeeze the trigger.

Time is up. The world stops spinning around me and at the moment, there is no other choice I can make.

I pull the trigger and blow a hole through his chest.

His hand goes slack, as goes his mouth as his eyes widen at me.

Lara’s scream sounds in my ears, and she rushes toward me.

I hold up a hand to stop her, to try and protect her, but she keeps coming, kneeling down and wrapping her arms around me.

I have blood on my hands. Blood on my shirt, and when I look down, my father is still staring at me wide-eyed, gasping and sputtering on the ground, clutching his stomach. Blood soaks the bottom of his shirt, slowly trickling onto the expensive rug.

Lara clutches onto me, but I can’t help from reaching down to my father, putting pressure against the wound.

It’s too late, though, his eyes are already fading, never leaving mine until life leaves them completely.

I let out a ragged sob, and Lara grabs onto me. I bury my face in her neck, can’t help the sobs that wreck my throat.

He killed my mother. He tried to kill Lara. He might have killed me, if I’d kept taunting him.

But he was still my father, and I can’t help feeling a deep void from his loss.

When I finally get myself together, I stand up, wiping tears from my cheeks, and Duncan just stands there, looking down at my father with wide eyes, having come in after Lara.

“I saw the whole thing. He had a gun on you,” he mumbles, sounding like he’s in shock. “Then he grabbed Lara.”

“He would have killed her.” My voice is hoarse from emotion, but it’s strong, doesn’t shake like I’d expected it to. “He might have killed all of us.”

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