Page 81 of Vicious Hearts

"He's alive, Moira," I say, my voice cracking. "Eddie will be okay, but you might not be. You need to get to a hospital."

"I'm done," she whispers. Her eyes are closed. “The truth will come out, and I’ll lose Eddie. Just get him out of here.”

What is she talking about?

"Oliver is my stepson," she says. "He changed his name long ago. He's Adrian's kid from long before his father and I even met. The apple didn't fall far from the tree."

Oliver Buckley is OliverCoffey?

Her eyes open for a moment. They're dull and unfocused, and I know she has nothing left.

She inhales, sharp and harsh. She uses her last breath to spit three words at me.

"Make him pay."

Her head slumps, and she's gone. I look at Eddie. Mercifully he’s still out cold.

Oliver is still shouting.

I pick up the knife and make my way up the stairs.

* * *

Ben

I wait in the study, the room furthest from the stairs. Oliver is taking a methodical approach, checking room by room, and yelling taunts as he goes.

My rage has calcified into a boulder of grim resolve. I'm ready for him.

It seems wise to assume he has a firearm. I'm not a world-class marksman, so I don't fancy my odds in a one-on-one gun battle. He has a distinct disadvantage, though, in that I want to kill him much more than he wants to kill me.

Come on, you sick fuck.I'm not gonna lose my shit, not this time. Not gonna call out to you, not gonna rush you so you get a chance to fuck me up. You can come tome, and we'll see who's the boss.

Footsteps, getting closer.

I move behind the door, gun in hand. If I disarm him, I can kill him.

One chance is all I need.

Silence. Fast thuds of retreating feet as he descends the stairs.

Roxy screams.

I hurl myself out from behind the door and sprint along the landing.

She's alive she's alive she's alive she's—

I see them as I get to the top of the stairs.

Oliver's arm is around Roxy's neck. He must have grabbed her from behind. She's gasping, kicking out, fighting to get free. He wedges the barrel of his gun against her temple, and her body sags, limp as a ragdoll.

"Don't you fucking move!" he yells at me. I freeze halfway down the stairwell.

"Toss that gun back up onto the landing," he sneers. I do it without hesitation.

"Take it easy, Buckley," I say, showing him my empty hands. "You don't wanna do this."

"Oh yes, I fucking do," Oliver says. "Your little slut should have learned not to meddle. I had everything the way I liked it untilshestarted fiddling with things. And my name," he grins, "is Oliver AlexanderCoffey."

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