Page 119 of Ruthless

My gun wavered. My sister's life or Vincent's safety. An impossible choice.

Thunder crashed directly overhead, rattling the windows. Rain lashed against the glass like bullets.

"Five seconds," Prometheus said calmly. "Four..."

Ana trembled in his grip, a single tear tracking down her cheek.

"Three..."

My finger tensed on the trigger. I could risk the shot. But if I missed...

"Two..."

Behind them, through the balcony doors, lightning split the sky in a blinding flash.

"One..."

Lightning flashed as Lincoln'sfinger tightened on the trigger pressed against Ana's temple. Every muscle in my body locked, a lifetime of training crystallizing into this single moment.

My gun lowered a fraction of an inch.

Prometheus’ eyes gleamed with triumph. "I knew you couldn't do it."

That momentary hesitation was all he needed. He shoved Ana aside and lunged toward me as thunder crashed overhead. His gun discharged in a deafening crack. Pain exploded along my ribs as the bullet grazed my side, hot and sharp. I staggered backward, my weapon clattering to the floor as my hand pressed against the wound.

Prometheus was on me before I could recover, his fist connecting with my jaw hard enough to send me sprawling. My skull cracked against the marble floor, vision blurring at the edges.

"Pathetic," he spat, kicking my gun away.

Blood trickled down my side, soaking my shirt. Not fatal, barely more than a graze, but it burned like hellfire. I pushed myself up onone elbow, tasting copper where my teeth had cut the inside of my cheek.

"Lincoln, please," Ana begged from where she'd fallen against the wall. "What's happening? Who is this man?"

His face softened when he turned to her, the mask of concerned husband sliding back into place so seamlessly it was almost believable. Almost. But I'd seen beneath it now, seen the monster underneath.

"Nothing to worry about, my love," he assured her, keeping the gun trained on me. "Just a dangerous man from my past who's become... unstable."

Vincent's flashed through my mind. The memory of his hands on my skin, gentle where Prometheus’ had been controlling, accepting where Prometheus had only demanded perfection. Vincent, who'd never looked at me as a weapon, who'd seen the human beneath the killer, who'd loved both parts equally.

I pushed myself to my feet, ignoring the screaming pain in my side. "Tell her the truth,Lincoln." I spat his name like a curse. "Tell her how you found us both in Bosnia after soldiers murdered our parents. Tell her how you kept us apart for twenty-six years."

"Shut up!" Lincoln barked, his composure slipping momentarily.

“Tell her about The Pantheon. About what you really do for work.”

“I said shut up!” He swung at me.

I caught his fist. “Tell her about what you did to me in Milan.”

A muscle in his jaw flexed.

"He’s lying to you, Ana," I said shoving Prometheus back. "You’re not Serbian. You’re Bosniak. Serbian soldiers killed your parents and dragged you away."

Her eyes widened, her hand flying to her throat where a small pendant rested—a delicate silver feather. My heart stuttered at the sight of it. Our mother's necklace.

"Prasac," I said softly, the childhood nickname falling from my lips. "That's what I called you when you laughed too hard and snorted like a little piglet. You hated it, but I thought it was the best sound in the world."

Ana gasped, her fingers clutching the pendant tighter. "How could you possibly know—"

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