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“Go left!” I scream just before pulling the trigger. Niko staggers backward, dropping to the asphalt as a cloud of red blooms across his white shirt.
I shot him. I shot him. I shot him.
“What the hell, Ava!” Ethan throws both hands out, gesturing wildly as a second gunshot blasts through the air. I scream, readying myself for the pain, but it never comes. My breath comes harsh and heavy, my hand scanning what little clothing I have on for blood and finding none.
“Ava…”
I turn around to see Ethan on the asphalt as well, his hand cradling his chest and covered in blood. “Oh shit.”
He coughs through a laugh, his teeth as red as his mouth. “Fuck you.”
They’re his last words. As soon as they leave his lips, his body stills and blank, empty eyes stare up at the sky, seeing nothing.
Turning, I can’t stop the tear that rolls down my cheek as I face what I’ve done. Niko is on his back and still, his finger still curled around the trigger. The only difference between him and Ethan is that Niko’s eyes are closed.
I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t want to look at me either.
Shouts and sirens wail in the distance. I know airport security will be here soon. Those gunshots didn’t go unnoticed. I’m standing with a smoking gun in my hand and I don’t care to hide it. This is the way they’ll find me, and this is the story I’ll tell.
The story that’s been locked away in a house of horrors for eight years.
Ethan wanted to take Dmitry out and ended up dying by Niko’s hand.
Dmitry wanted to take Ethan out and ended up dying by my father’s hand.
My father wanted to take me out and ended up dying by Niko’s hand.
Niko wanted to take my father out and ended up dying by my hand.
And everyone wanted to take me out, yet here I stand.
Be careful what you ask for in life. You just might get it.
