Chapter 9 - WRATH OF THE KING
“I’m sorry, Harper,” Trevor yelled over the gunfire echoing through the estate. He aimed the gun at my chest, his hands shaking violently. “They said they’d kill me if I didn’t help them get to you. I didn’t have a choice!”
“You always have a choice, Trevor!” I spat, pushing myself up against the rubble. My shoulder screamed in agony, but I kept my grip on the Glock hidden behind my thigh. “You chose to leave me. And now you chose to align with dead men.”
“Shut up!” he screamed, tears mixing with the rain on his face. “Just get up. You’re coming with me. Vincent will pay anything to get you back.”
Before he could take another step, a shadow moved in the smoke behind him.
Vincent emerged like a demon summoned from the abyss. He was covered in blood, his tailored suit ruined, a combat knife gripped loosely in his hand. The sheer, radiating violence rolling off him paralyzed Trevor.
“Drop it,” Vincent commanded, a terrifyingly calm whisper that somehow cut through the chaos.
Trevor panicked. He swung the gun toward Vincent and fired. The bullet grazed Vincent’s ribs, but the man didn't even flinch. In one fluid motion, Vincent threw the knife. It buried itself to the hilt in Trevor’s right shoulder—the exact shoulder I had burned my own body to save months ago.
Trevor shrieked, dropping the gun and falling to his knees.
Vincent walked past him as if he were garbage, coming straight to me. He hauled me to my feet, his hands frantically checking for injuries. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” I breathed, clinging to his ruined shirt.
Vincent turned back to Trevor, drawing his own heavy pistol. He aimed it directly between Trevor’s eyes. “I warned you.”
“Wait,” I said, placing my hand over Vincent’s weapon.
Vincent looked at me, his eyes wild and dark. “He sold you to them, Harper. He dies.”
“I know,” I said, my voice steady. I looked down at the pathetic, weeping man who had once been the center of my world. I felt nothing. No anger. No sorrow. Just complete, absolute indifference. “But he’s not worth the bullet. Let him live with the knowledge that he is nothing. Let him run.”
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Vincent stared at me for a long moment before slowly lowering the gun. He looked at Trevor. “Run. If I ever hear your name again, I will peel the skin from your bones.”
Trevor scrambled away into the rain, clutching his bleeding shoulder, disappearing into the dark.
