Page 99 of Our Darkest Summer
Kinsley didn’t move, didn’t flinch. Her gaze remained eerily calm. Too calm. But my mind blanked, every strategy, every plan, erased in an instant.
“I still have a promise to keep,” he rasped, his voice raw with amusement. His grip shifted slightly, the barrel pressing against her skull like he was testing the weight of the moment, savoring it. Every muscle in my body locked. One wrong move, and she was gone.
“Kins.” Connor’s voice barely made it past the knot in my throat.
“She’s my next message to you.”
For the first time in my life, I moved without thinking. Without a plan. I lunged for her wrist, reaching for her, desperate to pull her away. I was going to be too late.
A loud, sharp crack shattered the air.
His body wavered. His grip trembled.
And then Kinsley was in my arms, her body colliding with mine, knocking the breath from my lungs. My hands flew to hercheeks, forcing her to look at me. Breathing. Blinking. I exhaled. She was alive.This night will end with a fucking group therapy session.
The tension in my muscles shifted. I lifted my gaze.
Samantha stood behind him, her fingers wrapped around a thick branch. She was barely breathing as she tore the gun from his grip and pointed it at him. He let out a ragged breath, rubbing the side of his head where he’d been hit. Then he looked up, and for the first time, his expression didn’t hold amusement. His jaw clenched, annoyance flashing across his bloodied face.
“Sister,” he gritted.
I blinked.Sister.If Samantha Jones was his sister, then he couldn’t be related to me. Hyacinth’s husband was Philip Bowman.
I started to move again?—
The gun turned. On me. Braxton swore behind me, the words cutting off like he’d swallowed them halfway.A team.Who would be more perfect than siblings?
But then, just as fast, the gun swung back to his brother. My pulse ticked. My muscles coiled. What the hell was she playing at? My fingers twitched, aching to end this.
Samantha’s hands trembled, but her grip on the gun didn’t waver.
“Samantha,” Kinsley’s voice was soft, careful, like she was trying to calm a wounded animal. “Can you… can you ask him, please?”
Samantha inhaled sharply. For a moment, she looked like she might refuse, but then she turned to her brother.
“What did you do, Eric?”
The question settled into the air like a slow-burning fuse.Eric.His face twitched, the mask of amusement slipping for a fraction of a second before it returned, darker than before.His lips curled; his bloodstained teeth bared in something that wasn’t quite a smile.
“I’m avenging her,” he murmured, his voice almost reverent. His eyes gleamed with a manic glaze. “They, him, Joshua, all of his precious little family deserve to die. To pay for what they made her endure.”
A cold weight settled in my gut. Made her endure? What the hell was he talking about?
Samantha shook her head, her voice breaking. “You’re not well.”
So, she wasn’t in on this?
Eric cocked his head. “You’re wrong,” he whispered, his voice eerily calm. “I’ve never been better.”
Think. I could almost hear Kinsley’s voice in my head.
He believed Joshua was his father.Avenge her.Hyacinth died months ago, so what? He snapped?
“Why do you say Joshua is your father?” I asked, keeping my voice even. Eric’s attention snapped to me, his lips curving. He liked that I was asking.
“I grew up on my mother’s stories about my father. First, he was a hero, saving lives. Then, he became the villain. The man who broke her heart, who left us.”
My teeth clenched. “When did he leave?”
