Page 122 of Ruling Scar
“Is that what they taught you at Oxford?” his brother replies.
“Oh for fuck’s sake.” A British accent cuts through the air. “Are we shooting the motherfucker or are we not?”
There’s the presence of not just one, but two people behind me. Isolde and Ren. My tears run freely at the realization.
Leopold takes a deep breath, addressing Ren. “Shooting down a Stuart is bad for business.”
“All bets went off the moment you grabbed Boris Akatov’s daughter.”
Leopold smirks. “Hell have no fury?—”
Ren laughs, agreeing. “Like Gia Akatov scorned. You’re damn right.”
“Look you fucking prick,” Isolde says. “You’ve got four guns on you and three options. We take you out now. You walk out and meet with Boris. Or that tiny little brain of yours figures out a way to walk away and never be seen again.”
Elijah takes one step closer. “You should know the only option is the first.”
Liking that option, Isolde pulls back her safety.
Death by firing squad. Everything in me says run or hide, but I’m tied to the chair. Ren places a hand on my shoulder, silently telling me to stay calm. Only she’d have the steady nerves to stare down a bastard with one hand on her gun.
Leopold dismisses them all with a lazy flick of the eye. He turns to me, his gaze dragging over my tear-stained face. “So many people came to play.”
It’s not a game, I want to scream back.
“I have chess pieces too,” Leopold says and from the shadows men appear.
There’s the click of a safety going off and Roma turns so swiftly I’m not sure how he does it. Roma fires a hair after Leopold’s guy. And then it’s an all-out war.
Roma’s guy falls into him and he sidesteps, the body hitting the floor with a dull thud. Another appears and another array of fresh blood splatters his already painted face.
Leopold and Elijah aim for one another, the former barreling toward him. Two masterminds melted down to gunmetal.
I cringe into the chair, my eyes squeezing tight as my shoulders hit my ears. There is no safe or happy place. No amount of therapy prepared me for this display of terror.
Ren takes the chance, using the back of the chair as cover, Isolde beside her. She cuts my zip-tied hands and drags me back.
Leopold trips, the barrel of his gun shaking. It’s pointed at Elijah and his name is on the tip of my tongue when another bullet whizzes by.
Leopold drops to the ground, lifeless. Blood spews into the air before splattering to the concrete floor.
His eyes remain wide open and his body jerks, two, three, four, five times. The bullets peel through him, his body an open cavity at this point.
Adeline stands above him, blood soaking her designer clothes and pale face.
Echo after echo, the bullets ring.
Isolde places a hand on her shoulder, unaffected by both the body and the amount of artillery my sister’s got going. She’s almost gentle as she slowly pushes on Adeline’s arm, lowering her weapon. “He’s dead now,” she gently tells my sister and maybe until that moment I thought this was all some fucked up dream.
But the reality is, my baby sister just killed a man.
Adeline stands emotionless, staring down at Leopold.
“Are you okay?” Ren forces me to stand out of the chair. Her head swims in front of me, blocking my view of Ads. Quick, gentle hands run across my shoulder, down my arms, inspecting me.
“Move.” Elijah shoves her aside.
I think she might make a face or roll her eyes, but I’m too overwhelmed.
