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Darting to the side, I wrapped my fingers around the bat and swung around to face Maddox. His answering grin was laced with malicious glee.
“You think you can take me on, Alex?” he cracked his knuckles, then crooked his index finger at me, making a ‘come and get me’ motion.
With a determined set to my shoulder, I feigned swinging the bat high. Maddox moved to block it by raising his forearm, but at the last moment, I switched my trajectory and target—slamming the metal bat into his knee.
Maddox let out a roar of pain, his knee buckling beneath him at an unnatural angle. He reached for the bat as he fell, snatching it from my grip and tossing it across the room. Backing away, I watched with satisfaction as he writhed in pain, but I couldn’t linger, my window to escape was closing fast. I turned to bolt from my apartment but drew to a stop when I saw Reaver standing in the doorway. His dead eyes roved from me to Maddox. Reaching behind him, he pulled out his gun and took aim.
My world slowed to the sound of my heartbeat.
Thump, thump.
Reaver took a step closer, his finger moving to the trigger.
Thump, thump.
His cold, heartless eyes flickered from me to Maddox, who was screaming at him to fucking shoot me already.
Thump, thump.
Reaver brought the gun level with my head.
Raising my chin, I stared at the man who would murder me and waited. I’d already saved Bliss. Knowing she would be safe was enough for me.
Thump, thump.
Thump, thump.
My eyes closed, the sound of Maddox’s demands for my death fading from my ears.
I found a sense of peace in my waiting.
A sense of calm.
But then, a profound sense of sadness descended on me.
Bliss would be all alone.
And Nick…
We would never have a chance to see what would happen between us.
We would never have the chance to tell each other how we really felt because despite all his protective macho bullshit, I could tell he cared for me, just like I cared for him.
Thump, thump.
Thump, thump.
Thump, thump.
Something hard and cold was pressed into my slack palm. On reflex, my fingers tightened around the object and my eyes peeled open to find a gun. My head jerked up. Reaver was standing close—too close—another gun still in his hand. He jerked his chin in Maddox’s direction, and it took my addled brain a minute to understand what he wanted.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Maddox snarled as he staggered to his feet. He pulled out his own weapon andtook aim. “You’re fucking finished, Reaver. You hear me? My father will personally feed you to the fucking fish?—”
Two shots rang out, but I was only responsible for one of them. I flinched from the recoil. This was a larger caliber weapon than I was used to, and the energy it released slammed back into my already tender shoulder socket. Flecks of warmth hit my skin, and I wiped at it absently. Pulling them away, I found my fingers smeared with blood.
I let out a breath, unable to take my eyes off Maddox. His arm fell a moment before he listed to the side. He landed on my apartment floor, his eyes open and unseeing, two small holes—less than a quarter inch apart—between them. A small trickle of blood ran down his forehead, while the back of his skull was blown out—blood and brain matter decorating the wall and carpet behind him. I spun around, gun raised, to face Reaver, who was sliding his gun back into its holster.
Our eyes locked.
