Fuck.
“You need to be punished for your disobedience,” Aria continues, a scowl descending over her features. She sweeps her arm to the side, the gun still clutched tightly in her grip, and says, “Choose one to die. Doyle or Harvey.”
“What?!” That one word, rife with incredulity, bursts from Dom’s lips. I don’t look over my shoulder to see his expression.
“Pick one,” Aria repeats, pronouncing each word slowly, carefully, succinctly.
Dread hardens to form an icy lump in my throat. “Fuck you.”
“Pick one, or I’ll shoot him in the head.” This time, Aria raises the gun and levels it on Beckett, directly between his eyebrows.
Beckett swallows, tension stealing through his shoulders.
But he doesn’t move away or cower. He simply stands there, his chin lifted in the air imperiously, his jaw clenched, his gaze locked on the bitch threatening his life.
“Harvey,” I grit out, not giving myself a chance to second-guess my decision or focus on the fact I’m sentencing a man to die. “Kill Harvey.”
Aria tsks her tongue in mock disapproval. “Not you, Ellie.” Her glacial gaze slides over my shoulder and locks on Dominic, who has gone frozen behind me, a statue of flesh against my back. “You. Choose who you want to die—your father or your brother.”
What the fuck?
“I…” Dominic’s hands land on my shoulders, steel bands, and he subtly pushes me to the side and behind him. I allow him to, simply because my brain is still trying to process Aria’s request.
She wants Dominic to choose which of his family members has to die?
He hates his father, I know that, but could he live with himself if he sentenced him to death?
I don’t want him to live with that guilt, but at the same time, I can’t allow Aria to hurt Beckett. That’s not an option.
Dominic’s hands curl into fists at his sides. “You’re a goddamn bitch.”
Aria flicks the safety off. “You have five seconds.”
“Harvey! Kill Harvey!” Dominic screams, an angry red flush erupting up his neck. Just like when I answered, he doesn’t hesitate. We may not trust Doyle completely, but he’s helped us. And if he’s truly trying to make amends with his brother?—
Aria whips the gun to the side and fires.
The bullet hits Doyle between the eyes.
All of us freeze. Zane, who has been inching closer to Beckett, as if he intends to shove him out of the way, goes perfectly still. Beckett’s face takes on an unnatural green tint.
And Dominic?
He looks shattered.
Tremors reverberate through his shoulders as he stares at his brother’s dead body and the bullet in the center of his forehead. It almost reminds me of a spiderweb. Finite lines expand in all directions, intermingling with the blood steadily dripping from the wound.
Harvey begins to scream, though the noise is muffled with the gag still in his mouth. His wide, terrified eyes flick from Dominic’s face to Doyle’s and back again.
Then, without giving us a chance to process what the fuck just happened, Aria aims the gun at Harvey as well. The older man begins to sob, shaking his head in denial.
The pop of the gun rattles my teeth.
Harvey’s head drops forward, blood oozing from the wound on his head.
Breathing is impossible. The air seems to be made up of nothing but tiny razor blades, and every time I inhale, I swallow one down.
No. No. No. No.