Page 89 of His Pet

I bring the gun up, but a shot fires and a burning sensation covers my ear and side of my head. My gun falls from my hand, and I wince.

“Don’t!” Valentine yells. “You fucking idiot, do you want the police to show up? No gunfire!”

Valentine kicks the gun away from me, and I lift my hand to my ear and bring back blood. It clipped me, and I’m deaf in my right ear, but it’s not too bad.

I search for Amelia but don’t see her. She isn’t sprawled on the floor any longer.

“Put him with the others,” Valentine bellows, a hand on his stomach. He’s losing blood fast. It seeps through his fingertips, but his need for vengeance must be outweighing his intelligence, if he ever had any. He needs a hospital.

Which means now he’ll have to make this quick.

Someone kicks my back, and I fall forward, but then I’m yanked up and shoved into the dining room. I’m immediately struck with confusion when I spot my father in a different chair. Still on the opposite side of Settimo but closer to us.

“God dammit, someone go get the girl,” Valentine snaps. One of his men shuffles out of the room.

“On your knees,” he says, his breath heavy as he stands in front of me, his gun pointed at my head.

I lift my chin and grind my teeth while I wait to see if he’ll pull the trigger.

And of course, he doesn’t. Fucking coward.

Someone strikes me from behind with what must be the butt of a gun, and I crumple to the floor. I catch myself with my hands and glare up at Valentine.

He smirks and crouches down in front of me, staring me in the eyes like he’s waiting for something. The same man who hit me with the gun drags my hands behind my back until my arms burn.

“The brother first,” Valentine says. “He doesn’t have much more time anyway.”

“Good, fuck you,” Settimo says, his voice weak.

“No!” Ma screeches. She tries to lunge forward, but a darker-skinned man hits her and knocks her into the wall.

He lifts his gun and points it at Settimo’s head, and a gun fires.

I tense, but the shot didn’t come from the guy’s gun. It came from another part of the house. Everyone in the room turns their head toward the exit. A weight falls from my chest into my stomach and then keeps going until it drags me to the pit of hell.

Amelia.

No.

My head whips to the side when I catch movement, and I zero in on Syrus as he slits the throat of the man holding the gun at Settimo. It looks like he’s using a piece of glass. He catches the gun and quickly fires at the other two henchmen in the room, leaving only Valentine.

At least that’s what I thought. When Syrus points the gun at Valentine, a shot fires and Syrus’s mouth goes wide as blood seeps from his chest. He locks eyes with Settimo before falling to the floor.

“You son of a bitch!” Settimo yells at the two men who entered the room.

“Give me a gun!” Valentine barks, but it’s strained. He’s bleeding out and hunched over. One of them hands him their gun, and he aims it at me. “Fuck this,” he says.

“Drop the guns!” a fierce, feminine voice yells. Everyone looks to Amelia who’s holding a Glock matching the other men’s.

She’s alive.

She’s fucking alive.

Relief floods me, even if it’s only temporary.

Tears streak Amelia’s cheeks, and it occurs to me what must have happened. She killed a man. My sweet, beautiful, empathetic, kind, gentle, fierce little warrior pulled the trigger. I didn’t think she would ever be capable.

Is she really capable of doing it again?

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