Page 89 of Silent Vendetta (Vendetta Duet)

“You take the car.” Hunter smiled. “You and your father could use some time alone.”

“No,” Dad interjected. “I wouldn’t mind getting to know my daughter’s significant other.”

My cheeks blazed with red. “Dad…”

“It’s written all over your face. Now come on. You and your boyfriend are going to buy me a steak. And then I have to figure out where I’m going to live.”

“There’s a gorgeous cottage that I’m hoping will be free,” Hunter said, looking at me—his implication clear.

He hoped I’d choose to be with him. And stay.

“But even if it’s not, I have plenty of other options, sir. The last thing you need to worry about is having a place to stay.”

Dad raised his eyebrows. “I like your boyfriend.”

“Dad, he’s not my…never mind.”

I wrapped my arm around my dad’s waist and began leading him out of the courtroom.

“Is it really over?” he whispered in disbelief.

“The new evidence is rock solid, Dad. I doubt the DA will even pursue that new trial once he sees it.”

Dad shook his head. “It’s going to take some time to get used to thinking about what I want to do tomorrow. Next month, next year. Maybe I’ll go back to school and get a degree.”

Finally, Dad was allowing his freedom to sink in. It dawned on me that, in all of these years, accepting his injustice must have been a coping mechanism. A dark one that was now gone.

When we arrived at the front doors, Dad’s lips turned down into a frown when he spotted the reporters waiting to ask questions.

“We can go around back,” I suggested.

“No,” Dad said. “Letthemnot feel heard for a minute.”

I smiled. Dad had tried to get them to listen to him back then, and now the tables were turned.

He straightened his tie and held his chin up as we emerged onto the front steps of the courthouse.

Flanked by Hunter and Sean, we kept our chins up, ignoring all the reporters who wanted our time as we made our way toward the black sedan fifty feet in front of us.

We made it down the steps and another twenty feet when…

A sharp pop exploded in my ears.

Screams pierced the air, followed by pain, when something heavy slammed into me, and the warm pavement hit my body. My ears, still ringing, began to pick up other sounds: the frantic shuffling of feet, and muffled cries.

Hunter’s weight on me was both reassuring and terrifying. His breath, ragged and quick, echoed my own rising panic. But his presence was momentarily forgotten as my gaze landed on the stillness next to me.

“Dad!” I screamed.

I bucked against Hunter’s weight.

“Luna, stay down,” he urged.

Dad was lying there, unmoving. His eyes stared blankly into the sky, the light that had danced within them only moments ago now extinguished.

As a slow trail of blood dripped from the hole in his forehead.

With fingers trembling, I reached for him, desperate for some sign, any sign, that this wasn’t the end of our story.

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