It’s now or never.
With my heart in my throat, I pause in front of Zach’s house. Part of me wonders if I should use the front door and hope he answers it or try to get in the same way I did last time. Breaking and entering. Something tells me it won’t be as easy this time around. He doesn’t seem like the type of man who would let someone break into his home twice. Not without consequences.
Making up my mind, I sneak around the back, just like I did with Jack. I glance over my shoulder, the rain pouring now. Thankfully, the trees and the side paneling of his house shield me from the sheets of rain. Keeping my purse tucked close to my body, I stay low, trying to keep an eye on the house. It’s dark with no movement inside. He still has those blackout blinds, making it hard to see inside, but none of the windows at the top of his house are illuminated with light, telling me he’s probably not here.
I rest my back against the side of the house, trying to steady my pounding heart. I don’t know what I’m doing here. This could get me in more trouble with the law if I break in again.
“What do I do? What do I do?” I whisper to myself. Slamming my eyes shut, I wait for the answer to come to me. When it does, my eyes spring open.
“Go home, Kenzie. This isn’t you.”
Pushing off the side paneling of the house, I trudge back the way I came, deciding to go back to the penthouse. Deep down, I know I shouldn’t be here. Madison is right. This isn’t me.
Keeping my head low, I walk down the street, my cardigan tugged tightly around my body, as the rain seeps into my clothes, soaking my body, feeling like a permanent chill living in my bones. I make my way back to the park, and I sit under the awning while I order an Uber. When I turn my phone back on, I have dozens of text messages from Baz asking where I am. Apparently, he is handling something at Kings.
That’s why he was gone.
When my Uber arrives, I make the shortsighted decision to go to Kings instead of the penthouse. I don’t want to be alone right now. Because I know if I go to the penthouse, she’ll be back, and I’m not ready to face Madison again. I’m not ready to face the constant mistakes I keep making. In this case, Baz is the lesser of two evils.
The drive is quick, my mind whirring most of the way. I pause at the entrance, unsure if I’ll be let in looking the way I do. I’m not exactly dressed for the club. The security guard out front eyes me oddly, and I straighten the strap of my purse on my shoulder.
“Can you tell Baz that Mackenzie is here?”
He nods, ushering me in. “He’s out on the floor handling business. I’ll have someone let him know you’re here. He wasn’t expecting you.”
I’m ushered to the top floor, and I settle inside the room, looking down at the dance floor. Droplets of water drip behind me, trailing after me from the rain. I try to spot Baz out in the crowd, but I don’t see him. It’s a little more packed than usual tonight, the dance floor filled with bodies. I pull my phone out of my purse, my stomach clenching when I see the weapon. Definitely not the smartest thing to do, walking around with a weapon. I’m just about to send Baz a message when I hear something coming from one of the back rooms down the hall.
My body freezes when I hear the sharp laughter. I clutch at my bag, trying to breathe past the pain slicing through my chest. My ears start ringing, and I shift, slowly making my way down the hall. Vincent laughs at something, clearly speaking to someone on the phone, since I don’t hear anyone else in the room with him.
“This shit has gone on long enough, Zach,” he growls into his cell. “You want to test me, brother? I’ve given you plenty of chances, and this time, it’s done. Kill her yourself, if you’re so goddamn paranoid. They have nothing.”
I choke. He’s on the phone with Zach, which clearly means they’re all still working together.
Sweat beads on my forehead, and suddenly feeling the need to protect myself, I dig the gun out of my purse. I hold it against my chest, my hands trembling with fear and adrenaline.
All I’d need to do is flick off the safety and shoot if Vincent realizes I’m here, and he decides to try anything. I creep closer and peek around the room, spotting Vince splayed out on a couch, his back to me, rap music playing softly in the background, an open liquor bottle and the strong smell of marijuana wafting from the room. I listen in on his conversation, my heart stalling at the heated argument taking place.
Are they…arguing? A deep pit settles in my gut the closer I listen. It’s sounds a lot like they’re arguing about me.
“Don’t pussyfoot around me. The next time you pull some shit like that, you’ll be the next person I’m laying to fucking rest.”
With the gun gripped tightly in my sweaty palm, I raise it, my heart racing, as I aim it at the back of his head. There’s no telling if I’ll even hit my target if I fire off a shot, that’s how bad I’m trembling.
My finger hovers over the trigger. The metal is cool and heavy, and it feels so wrong in my hands, but as I home in on Vincent, it also feels…so right. My finger tightens on the trigger as I aim the gun at him. Just one more little nudge, and I can end him. I can end him and the rest of them.
In the back of my mind, I can hear my sister telling me to run, to put the gun down and run far away. My hands start to tremble as I war with the decision in my head. My arms tremble with the weight of the gun and the heavy decision I’m about to make. Of their own accord, my eyes slam shut and flashes of the past spurt behind my lids. That summer in Ferndale, the way he stabbed me, held the gun to my head. I suddenly can’t breathe. It feels like Vincent’s hands are squeezing my lungs, restricting air. He’s killing me all over again.
I clamp my jaw down, trying to stifle the sob. Just as the tears start rolling down my cheeks, I apply pressure to the trigger, and I tense, waiting for the blowback, waiting for the deafening sound of the shot to ring out, but it doesn’t come. Instead, my finger slips off the trigger when Vincent shifts, his eyes clashing with mine. Ice floods my veins, and my breath catches. Everything falls away at that moment. The edges of my vision blur, and I’m suddenly transported back to the woods, back to Ferndale. Instead of being at his mercy with his gun aimed at my head, he’s at mine.
Slowly, Vincent shifts, rising to his feet as he sets his phone down. His gaze narrows, the muscle in his jaw jumps as he regards me.
“And so she lives.”
I swallow the acid building in my throat. “No thanks to you.”
He smirks. It’s so off-putting, my stomach churns. “You’re not going to shoot me, Mackenzie.”
My grip tightens around the handle of the gun, and I sniff indignantly. “You really want to test that theory right now?” I challenge.
Vincent ignores me, slowly closing the distance between us. For every step forward, I take one back, until my back collides with the wall. I’m trapped in here with the man who tried to kill me. The man who lied about murdering my sister with Baz.
I loathe him.
I’d like nothing more than to see him roll around, screaming in pain, blood pouring from his wounds, but I can’t seem to get my trigger finger to work. It’s there, right fucking there, but I can’t bring myself to do it.
“You’re half the woman she would’ve been, Mack.”