The shot that would provoke the hero.
Chapter 19:Chloe
I heard voices and screams—all of them at once—coming from inside.
“What the fuck—”
I had just stepped outside to meet Cartier. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to tell me what he found—barely opened his mouth—before the noise carried through the open doors. It wasn’t conversation. Something was wrong. I moved without thinking, pushing back inside.
The dinner atmosphere had shifted in a couple of minutes. People were standing now, half out of their chairs, whispering to each other like they weren’t sure whether to intervene or pretend nothing was happening. Staff lingered at the edges, frozen in place. Then I saw her.
Chloe.
Her hair was loose, falling around her face. Arthur had her in his arms. He was carrying her like she was a problem he needed removed. My chest tightened.
“Put her down,” I said, already moving toward them.
He didn’t acknowledge me. “Everything’s under control,” he replied to the guests.
What in the hell had happened?I took another step toward them, ready to go after him. A hand caught my arm.
“Killian—wait,” Olivia said, stepping in front of me. “My sister had an episode,” she continued quickly. “This is whatwe told you about. She gets overwhelmed, she acts out—Daddy knows how to handle her.”
“Move.”
Her fingers tightened around my arm. “Please,” she said, lowering her tone further. “Don’t escalate this. She doesn’t understand what she’s doing.”
I pulled my arm free. I didn’t stay to hear the rest. I turned and headed toward the hallway, pushing through the crowd of guests who stood frozen, wine glasses in hand, faces painted with confusion and judgment.
"Killian!" Olivia's voice followed me. Then she was yanking me back again. "Stop," she hissed. "Why do you even care?"
I turned to look at her. Her face was flushed. Her eyes were wild—not with concern for her sister, but with something else.
"I'm the one you're supposed to marry," she said, her voice rising. "Not her. Me. Why are you running after her like she matters?"
The guests were watching now, whispering. I didn't care.
"Let go of my arm, Olivia."
"No." Her chin lifted. "You're making a scene. For her. For the crazy girl who doesn't even know her own name. What is wrong with you?"
I leaned closer, keeping my voice low enough that only she could hear. "You have two seconds to take your hand off me before I remove it myself."
Her eyes widened. Her grip loosened. I didn't wait for her to let go completely. I pulled free and walked away, leaving her standing in the middle of the dining room, surrounded by her family's guests, her face twisted with rage and humiliation.
I reached the hallway that led to the attic stairs, my pace slowing. I heard Cartier pull up behind me. Voices carried from down the hall; I couldn’t see them, but I knew it was Ava talking.
“…I told you this would happen,” she was saying, her tone low but edged with irritation. “You keep letting her slip, and one day she’s going to ruin everything we’ve built.”
Arthur responded, but I couldn’t make out the words. Then Ava again, clearer this time: “We should have handled it years ago.” There was a brief pause. And then— “We should’ve killed her like we did her mother.”
The words settled into the air, heavy. My body went still. For a second, I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. I just stood there, processing what I had just heard, trying to decide if there was any way I’d misunderstood it.
There wasn’t.
Something cold moved through me. I moved in their direction, but before I could find them, a gunshot rang out. The sound echoed through the walls, unmistakable. Every instinct I had snapped into place. I didn't think. I didn't wait for Cartier.
I ran.