Page 72 of Cruelest Contract (Storm’s Eye Ranch)
Slowly, as if he’s enjoying this too much, he releases my arm. I’m sure it’s not broken but it hurts like hell. Yet that pain doesn’t hold a candle to the consuming anguish crushing me from the inside.
My brother takes a step back and rubs his mouth with the back of his hand. The other hand holds the gun.
And his face just….melts.
That’s the best way I can describe the complete shift to evil. His eyes, usually a warm light brown just like mine, now blaze with unrecognizable wrath before he looks at the floor.
He drags his eyes back up. If anything, they’ve only grown more spiteful. “You fucking ungrateful bitch,” he swears.
If he’d stabbed me in the heart, the pain couldn’t possibly be worse.
I want to scream at this horrible man. I want to hit him and force him to give me back my twin brother, the one who must still be in there somewhere.
What was it Julian said about Gabriel and self-loathing? I can’t remember the exact words. But Julian saw him far more clearly than I ever have.
Gabriel hates himself. This is true. It’s been true for a long time. But right now he hates me more.
Whatever psychotic plan he made, he believes I’ve ruined it. Now he’s going to make me pay.
My twin brother looks down and notices the gun in his hand.
“Gabriel,” I whisper in agony, helplessly covering my belly with my arms. “Please don’t.”
In this moment of inconceivable horror, a soothing hand strokes my hair, the kind of tender touch that would come from a mother.
This, of course, is my imagination. Gabriel and I are the only ones in the room. My panic-stricken brain is simply trying to cope with what’s happening by inventing an ally that whispers in my ear that everything will be all right when nothing will ever be all right again.
Louisa chooses this moment to streak out from beneath Cass’s desk with a startling yowl and runs right between Gabe’s legs.
He yelps and spins around. The gun flies out of his hand and hits Teresa’s painting, which wobbles and then falls to the floor.
He leaps for his gun but a log cracks in the fire, sending a shower of sparks onto his clothes.
“Fuck!” he shouts and smacks at his arm to put out the fire.
Teresa’s painting has landed sideways. There’s a small tear in the canvas, a few inches away from her right arm.
What a shame, I think to myself, understanding this is an odd thing to be concerned with just now.
The background of the painting is so dim, as if the artist made the deliberate choice to allow Teresa to shine even brighter.
This must be why I never noticed before that the setting is this very room.
The rip in the painting actually runs right through the small table that’s still here.
On my wedding day, I signed my marriage license on that table.
The contract was finalized in ink and blood.
There’s no contract on the table now. No ink.
No blood. All that’s there is a shot glass and a half full bottle of bourbon.
And alcohol, as everyone knows, is an accelerant.
I don’t give myself time to think. Gabriel is still preoccupied with dousing the flames on his arm. Lunging for the bottle, I seize it by the neck and fire it at my brother with all my might. I’m not athletic and I’m not strong but at this one crucial time my aim proves to be impeccable.
The bottle hits him square in the chest, shattering and knocking him backwards. He unleashes a deranged howl as his arms pinwheel and he ultimately loses his balance, falling right into the fireplace.
Enough alcohol has soaked his shirt to instantly set it alight. He screeches and smacks at his chest.
This might be my only chance. I need to follow Angelo’s advice.
I should have run and hidden when he told me to.
Once Gabriel puts the fire out he’ll be more enraged than ever.
He’ll kill me with his bare hands. Perhaps later he’ll feel some remorse but in the moment he will enjoy feeding his rage by ending my life. I know this with grim certainty.
He flails, trying to grab for my arm as I stumble past him and out the door. Flames continue to lick his clothing, burning it off. His face is blistered and nightmarish.
But I’ve made it to the hallway and I blindly veer left toward the foyer, where I run straight into my husband, colliding with his chest. Julian’s strong arms instantly surround me and I’m safe.
There’s no time to savor the reunion. Gabe continues to scream out curses and murderous threats. He’s death itself and he’s chasing me.
I can feel Julian raise his right arm. The shot he fires is so loud. Though my ears are still ringing, I can hear the squishy thud when my brother’s body hits the floor.
Julian pulls back slightly and cups my chin in his palm. His face is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“Don’t look at it, baby,” Julian says. “I’m here now.”
One corner of my vision catches Angelo, hobbling through the front door, injured but upright.
And nearby I see that Julian’s brothers, stricken and despairing, have gathered around their fallen father. They drop to their knees in heartache.
But I never look back at Gabriel’s body.
Instead, I shut my eyes and allow my husband to hold me up.