The sound fades away, and I scramble to my feet in the sudden overwhelming silence. The front of the car is crushed up against the wall, and several of the wall’s massive stones have been shoved out of place.
With a grating squeal, the driver’s side door opens. Luca’s bodyguard stumbles out, blood pouring down the side of his head. He raises his gun as he catches sight of me, but before he can fire, I squeeze the trigger of my own gun twice. Both shots hit him, and he wheels backward, collapsing to the ground.
I don’t know how many bullets I have left, but I know it’s not many. Darting forward, I kick the heavy gun out of his flaccid grip and then drop my own weapon to pick it up. It feels too-big and unfamiliar in my hand, but I grip it tightly anyway and straighten up.
Cautiously, I make my way around the car’s trunk, keeping my head ducked as I peer around the side of the car.
My heart jerks in my chest.
Luca’s door is open. I didn’t hear the same screech of metal as when the bodyguard opened his door, so the hinge must not’ve gotten as damaged on this side.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Where is he?
Blood rushes in my ears, and I strain to hear past it, to focus on my surroundings instead of the cold grip of fear curling around my heart.
Where the fuck is he?
I whirl around, keeping my arm locked out and my finger on the trigger of my new weapon, scanning the darkness desperately.
Come on, motherfucker. Come on.
A small sound to one side of me draws my attention, and my head whips to the right, my gun following the movement until I’m face-to-face with Luca.
He’s standing less than two yards away, his own gun pointed at me. In his black suit, he's almost indistinguishable from the darkness around him, and his face is set in angry lines.
“I heard about what you did,” he says, his voice strained and tight. “All those years ago. The way you saved Marcus’s life. I never understood why you did it, but it drew out the game, so I didn’t mind.” He shakes his head, taking a step closer to me. “I should’ve known then that you’d be trouble. I should’ve sent someone to finish the job.”
I don’t answer. My hand is trembling slightly, my finger caressing the trigger.
How fast am I?
How fast is he?
As if sensing my thoughts, he lifts his weapon a little, a scowl twisting his features. “Drop it. Right now.”
My throat tightens as I swallow. “This is over, Luca. It has to be.”
“I agree. Drop your fucking weapon.”
He’ll kill me if I do. I know it. But if I don’t, he’s going to shoot me anyway, and I don’t know what the odds are that I’ll be able to hit him before he hits me.
Luca takes another step forward, closing the space between us even more. The barrels of our guns could almost touch, and this close, I can see the deep scowl lines etched into his face.
My gaze flickers downward briefly, and I notice something else. The dark fabric of his suit is shiny. It gleams in the moonlight, catching the dim illumination of the streetlamps outside the cemetery.
Blood.
Something must’ve pierced him when the car crashed. He’s bleeding.
He takes another threatening step toward me, and even though every muscle in my body burns with the urge to back up, to run from him, I don’t let myself move.
I need to get him to let his guard down. I need him to believe he’s won.
“Okay,” I say quietly, my pulse drumming hard and fast. “Okay.”
With a deliberate motion, I tip my gun up and toss it away.
Luca smiles, a look of satisfaction crossing his face.
Without letting myself hesitate, I lunge forward, moving as fast as I can. My hand comes up to grip his weapon the way Ryland taught me to, twisting it and shoving it to one side. He fires a shot, and I feel the bullet brush past me, inches from my body. The sound rings in my ears as I close the last bit of space between us and head-butt him as hard as I can.
My forehead catches his nose with an audible crunch, and he stumbles back slightly. Before he can recover, I twist the gun even more, breaking his grip and wrenching it away from him.
I stagger backward, so much raw adrenaline coursing through me that I almost drop the fucking thing. I clench my fingers around it, pointing it at Luca. Blood streams down his face, pouring from his nose and coating his lips, appearing almost black in the darkness.
He takes a half-step toward me, but his legs buckle and he goes to his knees.
He’s hurt worse than I thought. It’s probably the only reason that insane move worked.
My breath comes in choppy bursts as I stare down at him, holding the gun aimed at his head.
One of his hands reaches up to press against the shiny patch on his chest, and when it slips away, it’s wet with blood. He grimaces, dragging in an audible, rasping breath. Then he looks up at me, tilting his head to meet my gaze.
There’s something in his face I can’t remember ever seeing before, not in any of the times I’ve been around this man.
Exhaustion.
Bone deep, soul deep exhaustion.
He draws another breath, and it seems like it costs him something to do it. Like he knows it’s the last one he’ll ever take. His jaw clenches, and he shakes his head slightly.
“I never wanted to live without her,” he murmurs.
He doesn’t have to say the name for me to know who he’s talking about. Pain drips from every syllable of his words.
I nod, my throat going tight. “I know.”
Something settles in my stomach, grounding me. Anchoring me.
I hold Luca’s gaze, staring into the dark irises of the man whose pain has begotten so much more pain.
Then I pull the trigger and put a bullet between his eyes.
Chapter 23
Luca’s body pitches backward and slumps to the ground, life leaving it before it even hits the grass.
For a long moment, I stay frozen in place, staring down at him with my gun still raised.
My hand is shaking. I’m not sure I’m even breathing. Shock and adrenaline are finally starting to catch up with me, rushing through my veins so fast I feel wobbly on my feet.
A few days ago, I’d never killed another person. Now I’m not even sure how many lives I’ve taken.
But out of all the deaths I’ve been responsible for since this mess began, Luca’s is the only one I feel no guilt for.
Because he deserved it.
In every way possible.
And even though I should feel nothing but hate for this man, as I stare down at his corpse I can’t help but hope that somewhere out there, his wife’s soul is waiting for him. That he’ll find the peace he tore the world apart trying to obtain.
My legs can barely support my weight, but I finally force myself to step away from his body, turning and heading back the way I came. I try to run, but after my flat-out sprint earlier and the numbness creeping through me, all I can manage is an uneven half-walk, half-jog.
It feels like it takes forever, much longer than I remember running before, and I shove down the panicked voice in my head that whispers that I’ve gotten turned around, that I’ll never find my way back.
I have to. So I fucking will.
“Ayla!”
The voice rings out through the darkness ahead of me, and my heart jolts at the sound. Ryland.