Page 63 of Cruel Master

I couldn’t help but smile at that. “America?” I confirmed.

He nodded and then his grip on my arm turned hard. He yanked me to a stop so fast I swore my arm was about to pop out of my socket. “Fuck!” I cursed and tugged my arm from his grip as I turned to see why he had done it. We were standing at the top of the stairs that led down into the foyer and as I scanned the area, I stopped on the figure standing before the wide open front doors.

In the time since I’d last seen her, Jackie’s face had reddened considerably around her nose where I’d broken it. She had a newly patched white strip over it, however, as she stood there, her sheath dress ripped in various places and her heels missing. Her hair was half undone—one side tied to the back of her skull and the other with several strands sticking out wildly. In her hand, she clutched a handgun pointed directly at us.

“You’re not getting away this time, Angel!” she shrieked. “I won’t fucking have it. You won’t take this from me. You’ve taken everything else that was supposed to be mine!”

The gun in my hand felt both heavy and light as I lifted it. Her eyes widened and then she sneered. “You don’t have the fucking guts to shoot me, you fucking cunt.”

“You sure about that, Jackie?” I asked plainly.

With a violent scream, her arm jerked back as her gun discharged with each shot, but her aim was off. She shot up the staircase, bullets pelting the wood as she unloaded. I didn’t wait for her to actually hit me. Even as Ian grabbed ahold of me and tried to pull me back—away from the line of fire—I couldn’t let this opportunity pass me by. Not again.

I lifted my arm and pointed my own gun and pulled the trigger. The litter of bullets into wood halted immediately, and Jackie’s eyes widened before she looked up at me.

“Angel!” Distantly, I heard Gaven’s shout and then he was streaking through the foyer.

Jackie blinked up at me, as if she couldn’t quite believe it. Ian stopped trying to move me. Gaven’s much larger form barreled right into her and I watched in almost slow motion as she went down beneath him.

The gun in her hand went flying, skittering across the hardwood floor as her head bounced once, twice on the floor, and then stopped. “Gaven, don’t!” Ian shouted. Gaven’s fist was pulled back, his own gun aimed downward, but at Ian’s call, he stopped.

All at once, he seemed to realize what I’d done.

Jackie’s eyes were open—staring up at the ceiling frame of her childhood home’s front doorway. I gently pulled away from Ian and, this time, he released me. I descended the staircase, holding onto the railing as I moved around the bullet holes, not stopping until I reached Gaven and Jackie.

She wheezed as blood trailed up through her breasts to rest in the hollow of her throat. Gaven looked from her to me and then frowned, confusion filling his expression.

“You … shot her?”

I nodded. “Yeah,” I said. I dropped the gun to the floor and leaned down, going to my knees next to them. The open cuts on my thighs screamed in agony, but I ignored them. “You wanted to know the truth, Gaven?” My sister’s eyes moved to me and her lips parted, but no words escaped. “She was the one who killed Raffaello Price—Jackie killed our father. Not me. After we were married, I never planned to leave you like that, but I found them, and … she threatened to frame you if I didn’t run.”

“Angel…”

Jackie coughed and a smattering of blood left her lips, dotting her cheeks and chin. I leaned over her and Gaven backed up. Pressing my hand into the center of her chest, right where I’d shot her, I dug my nails into my sister’s body, wanting to see her feel the pain—even if it wasn’t the same kind of pain I'd experienced when she’d killed our father and took my life from me.

She bore her teeth at me and wheezed out an agonized breath. “Does it hurt?” I asked her.

“F-fuck you … you b-bitch.”

“No, Jackie.” I reached for Gaven’s gun, feeling like it was only perfect justice. She took from him, too, after all. Five years gone. Five years that I could’ve been at his side, forming his empire as his Queen. Five years I’d had to run, hoping to protect him from her when I should’ve done this all along. Five years without my father … all because of her.

Everything that had been taken from me for the last half a decade was because of her. So much could have been different, but worst of all, I knew that if I let her go, if I let her live and I gave into the small piece of me that just wanted to go back in time before everything had blown up in my face, this anxiety I felt would never end. She would always be there. If she lived, even if she was locked away somewhere, I’d always wonder when she’d escape. When she would come for me.

I was tired of that. Exhausted by all of the running and hiding. I wasn’t willing to do it anymore. So, this was it. This was the end of her and our relationship. My finger slid over his on the trigger and we lifted the barrel together until it was aimed at her face.

“Fuck you, Jackie.” The trigger compressed and the pop of the gun echoed in my head. Her face caved inward, right in the center of her forehead—a circular burn forming right where the bullet entered, and suddenly, the light that had been dying moments before was no more.

Jacquelina Price was no more, and now, I was the last living Price Heir.

“Angel.” My hand fell away from Gaven’s gun and I gasped for breath.

All at once, the pain in my body slammed into me. From my shoulder to my legs, I felt it. The adrenaline was draining quickly and my vision went blurry. “Shit.” Gaven’s curse reached my ears a split-second before his strong arms closed around me.

I felt myself being lifted against his broad chest. “I-I’m sorry,” I said. “S-so sorry, Gaven. I didn’t—”

“Shhhh.” Warm lips touched my forehead. “Quiet, Angel. Just let me take care of you now.”

“I-I never said it,” I told him. “But I think I … I love you.”

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