Page 152 of Vicious Kingdom

The revolver was aimed square at Leo’s chest.

For a second, none of us moved. Time went thick and syrupy, every heartbeat a countdown.

Jon’s voice cut through the cold like a blade. “Step away from her.”

He didn’t yell. He didn’t need to. The gun did all the talking.

Leo’s chair scraped back. He stood, palms up, slow and measured. “Jon. You don’t want to do this.”

“Oh, I do,” Jon said, eyes narrowing. “I want it more than anything.”

I scrambled up, nearly knocking over my drink. My brain was still lagging, struggling to process what was happening. “What are you doing?!”

Jon’s laugh was a graveyard shift—quiet, mirthless, echoing off the glass. “Our family ended when you ran to him. It’s time he paid.”

Leo didn’t answer. His eyes never left Jon’s.

I wanted to say something, anything, but my mouth was dry as a bone. Instead, I edged closer to Leo, putting myself half a step in front of him.

Jon’s face twisted. “Of course. Always protecting him. That’s what the Hertz do, isn’t it? Lie, cheat, protect. Even if it kills the rest of us.”

I found my voice, brittle and barely more than a whisper. “You’re not here to hurt me, are you?”

He shook his head with a pitying smile. “Not you, Anna. You’re just the match. He’s the fire.”

Leo said nothing, but I could feel him, warm and solid behind me, the thrum of his pulse even through the air.

Jon advanced, one slow step at a time, gun never wavering. “You took everything from me. The company. The clients. My own brother’s death is tied to you!”

“Dad’s death is closer to your own doorstep than you think,” I croaked.

“Annaliese,” Leo warned.

But I was done hiding. It was time this man knew what his son was. How he failed as a father—and as an uncle.

“Move, Anna,” Jon said. “This isn’t your problem.”

But it was. It had always been my story, and I wasn’t letting the ending run away from my pen.

I straightened, planted my feet, and glared at him with all the venom I could muster. “Your son abused me since I was a child. He’s the one who murdered Dad. This is my fight. I published that story at Blitz Media because what Callahan Voss was doing was equally bad. I gave voice to the helpless, and if it cost my father his name and reputation, then fuck him.”

My uncle’s eyes flickered, just for a heartbeat. A flash of something like pain, or maybe regret.

It was hard to say how much he knew. How deep his involvement in the coverups went.

And then, his eyes steeled.

“Fucking lies.” Jon squeezed the trigger, and the world jumped the rails.

The gunshot was less like thunder and more like a door slamming shut forever. The windows trembled, a pulse of sound ricocheting through the open-plan emptiness, but the bullet itself buried in the drywall behind Leo’s head—a warning shot. Or maybe just bad aim.

It shaved decades off my life.

The silence afterward was absolute. Even time seemed to hold its breath.

Jon’s hand shook now, just a trace, but the rage that flooded his face left no room for doubt. Next time he’d aim to kill.

Leo didn’t flinch. He took one step forward, putting his body between me and Jon. I should have been grateful, but all I felt was the ice in my own blood, the clarity of fear burnt down to its white-hot core.