Page 158 of Fallen Empire
Jaxson took a step forward. Instinct.
The click of hammers being drawn froze him in place.
Six men stood to my left. Two guns leveled at him. The other four aimed at me.
I gave him a single, sharp nod. Stay.
“Put the gun on the floor,” I said, voice low and teeth clenched, “or I’ll pull the trigger.”
The hatred burning in my chest was hotter than anything I’d ever felt. Even for Bruce. Not because of what Alex had done to me, but because of what I’d watched him do to Millie. My sister in every way except blood.
He didn’t move at first. The only shift I caught was the slow lift of one arm. The empty one, palm open, deliberate, as if to show surrender.
The other arm, the one with the gun, stayed right where it was, angled low at his side.
“I hear you,” he said. His voice was low, maddeningly calm. Testing me.
The weight of every gun in the room pressed against my skin, but my grip didn’t waver.
“Drop it, Alex.”
No answer. Just the faint scrape of his fingers flexing against the grip. Not much, but enough to tell me he was deciding whether to gamble.
I pressed the muzzle harder into his skull. “I’m not here to bluff. You move that hand anywhere but down, and I’ll paint this floor with you.”
My gaze flicked up, just enough to catch Millie’s face. Her eyes weren’t on me anymore. They’d shifted—locked onto something at the door. Not fear. Anticipation.
One quick glance from her to me, then back.
I wanted to look. God, I wanted to look. But one slip of focus and Alex would have the knife, or worse, before I could breathe.
Whatever she saw, it was closing in.
And from the sharp, almost defiant spark in her eyes, I knew.
It wasn’t another threat.
It was our opening. Our lifeline.
A sound cut through the air—faint at first, then swelling. The deep, chopping thrum of helicopter blades.
Alex’s head tilted toward it, showing me the barest hint of a smirk curling his mouth.
“Ahhh… my knight in shining armor,” he drawled. “Just in time to finish the rest of you off.”
My stomach knotted.
“Costa?” Jaxson’s voice was tight, calculating.
Alex’s eyes flicked toward him, cold and amused. “Who else? I’d say he’s been dying to see you again,Knox. Catch up on old times. Trade a few stories.” He chuckled, low and deliberate, like he already knew how this ended. “I’m sure he’ll want you alive… for now.”
The arrogance in his tone was a punch to the gut. Even with most of his men lying in pools of blood on the floor, he still believed the upper hand was his.
The thought was unsettling. Because despite me having a barrel forged of steel pressed against the back of his head, finger poised on the trigger, some part of me believed the conviction in his voice.
Until another body dropped to my left.
The sound snapped through me like a whip. I turned my head—just long enough to see the man collapse in a heap, lifeless on the floor.
