Page 26

She’s faster. The bang goes off, and the other man stumbles back.

That’s when I see my father’s corpse, pinned against the wall, before gravity wins and he slides to the ground.

“Go!” she commands, and we run.

Hazy smoke fills the air and the floor is littered with bodies—my father’s associates, family friends, and the staff. Their moans and cries of agony reach out for help. Why can’t we stop and help them? Then I realize they’ll never make it. We’re too far removed from society. Help will never reach us in time.

The isolation that was supposed to make us safe is what will kill us all.

We rush to the balcony, bullets ripping around us as the roaring pops of Katya’s gun clear a path. The glass door is already open. It gives me hope others had the same idea.

A man with his back to us points his gun at a body on the ground. He fires at the same time Katya does. He stumbles and falls to the side.

The body is my brother.

Red spreads across his white shirt. His chest is open, but it’s his neck—he’s bleeding more from there.

More bullets fire, hitting the wall behind me. Katya pulls me to the ground, and I crawl toward my brother.

A woman rushes past us and falls to the ground.

“They’ve got a sniper in the woods,” Katya says.

But I don’t care.

My brother coughs, blood splattering like water droplets when you run through a puddle. He pants, gasping for air that will never come. I press my hand to his chest, hoping the pressure will stop the bleeding. Even as the warm liquid covers my hand, I know it’s not doing any good.

“Di…” He says my name.

“Shh. It’s okay. I’m here.”

Katya grabs a rifle from the man who shot my brother. She fires two rounds, and the hail of gunfire showering us stops.

Another coughing attack seizes Damien’s body—until it stops, and the light in my brother’s eyes vanishes.

He holds his phone in one hand. I’m not sure why, but I grab it and slip it in my pocket.

Katya squeezes my shoulder, trying to keep the moment as sacred as possible, but another hail of bullets interrupts my goodbyes. “I’m so sorry, but we have to go.”

She pulls me away, but I don’t know if I can move. My body moves automatically as my mind blanks out. The smell of burning wood and gunsmoke overwhelms my senses.

“We need to get to the garage,” Katya says as she leads me to the balcony stairs.

There are already bodies scattered from guests trying to escape. A searing pain spreads through my shoulder as we sprint for the stairs. Katya is like a demon, spitting bullets at everyone. Another man hits the ground. But he’s not wearing a suit. None of the gunmen are. How did it take me so long to notice this?

Probably because being shot at and watching my family die is enough to make me miss a few details.

Like the fire burning the roof and the walls of my family’s home. Thick purple smoke clouds the evening sky.

“This way!” Katya yells, but pins me against the wall as a car comes zooming out of the garage.

The windshield shatters, and the driver slumps over, crashing into the stairs we were just standing on.

“Listen to me. Go get the GX-67. It’s armored and has a self-driving function. It should work with your fingerprints. Go!” she yells and pushes me toward the garage.

My father loves that car—why would the door unlock for me?

“Shoot everyone who moves at you.”