Page 67 of Ever After
I spot Winston through the curtain, and he’s retreating through the door. I run to Finley’s room and wait for her. The door is unlocked, so I slip in unnoticed. I have no idea where to hide, but I need to make sure he can’t see me when he enters. I don’t need a blood bath. I crack my knuckles and work on getting my anger in check.
Standing in the dark bathroom, I keep the door ajar and my hand on the gun, waiting for the asshole to enter. Sarah pushes open the door, and Finley is pushed through after before being forced down against the bed.
“Is there anything else you require, Mr. Sorenson?” Sarah asks.
He pushes her body over the edge of the bed, restrains her, and kicks her feet out wider. He unzips his pants and spits on his hand. With one hand on her upper back, he holds her down while placing the other hand around her hip. He turns his attention to Sarah.
“No, leave us alone. I want to ruin my new toy.”
He watches as Sarah backs out of the room, and I know I have to make my move now before things advance too far. I sneak out of the bathroom. Finley jerks her head up, and I place my finger over my lips to keep her quiet. Her nod is so small; if I blinked, I never would have known she did it. The tears in her eyes are like a punch to the gut. I see the love and fear swirling in her beautiful irises.
“Back away from the girl,” I say, the gun pointed at his head.
He turns his attention to me, a villainous smile on his face. He loosens the grip on her hip and stands up straight, but his hand remains on her lower back.
“What are you going to do? Shoot me? Come now, Detective, you don’t have it in you.”
I tilt my head to the side, studying him.Do I know him?It’s just enough of a distraction for him. He has his gun out of his chest holster and aims it at me.
“Drop it.” He rolls the R and waits. When I don’t move, he changes his aim toward Finley. “Do it, and I blow one through her.” He undoes her restraints. “Stand up, slave.” He pushes the cold steel into her lower back, and she complies with a whimper.
Her eyes are locked with mine, and her chest is rising and falling rapidly, fear rolling off her in waves. I put my hands up in surrender and slowly kneel to place my gun on the ground. He’s watching me intently, a smug smile plastered to his face, and he aims the gun in my direction instead.
Wrong move.
I turn my gun and fire, hitting him in the leg. Finley screams and ducks down. I don’t give him the opportunity to react before I shoot again. This time, I aim to kill. The bullet goes through his stomach, and he doubles over, clutching the wound.
Standing directly in front of him, I block Finley from the sight and point my gun at his head. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.” I recite the Miranda warning like I do every other time—with eye contact and a firm voice.
“You won’t make it out alive with her. I’ll make sure someone comes after you and your girl. She’ll be passed around like a piece of meat. After everyone has had their fill, she’ll be tossed out like the trash she is.” He glares at Finley.
She then does the one thing that surprises me the most. She pulls the gun from my hand and shoots him point blank in the head.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Finley
I’ve never shot a gun before. I stand there, shaking and in shock, as I watch the bright red blood puddle on the floor under the man’s head. His eyes are fixated on the ceiling, a blank, emotionless stare.
“Finley, give me the gun.” Grayson stands to my side and places his hands over mine, helping me lower my stiff arms. “It’s okay. Give me the gun.” I loosen my death grip on the metal weapon, and he takes it from me, tucking it into his pants. He ducks down, searching the man’s pockets for weapons. He pulls a knife out and pockets it before standing upright.
I can’t tear my eyes off the man I just killed, and my vision blurs. Grayson puts himself directly in my line of vision and bends down to look me in the eyes, his hands resting on my flushed cheeks. I have so many emotions running through my head; I’m not sure which one to grasp on to. I dart my eyes back and forth between Grayson’s. He’s here. My eyebrows pinch together as I allow him to absorb some of my stress, fear, and anxiety.
“That was the bravest thing anyone has ever done. Let’s find you some clothes and get you somewhere safe.” He runs his fingers down the side of my face and tucks some hair behind my ear. I nuzzle into his safety, never wanting him to let go. He undoes the cuffs around my wrists. They fall to the floor with a clatter.
“How are you here? You’re dead. I heard the gun go off.” I look up at him like he’s a dream. I can’t believe he is actually in front of me.
“No, he did that to trick you so you’d stop fighting him. He shot the ceiling above my head. I’m worth too much for him to just kill off like that.” He plasters a cocky grin in place. Even in high stress situations, he finds a way for his personality to shine through. “Please, we need to get you somewhere safe. Marco and Sarah have a plan, and I’m pretty sure it involves more guns.” He walks toward the dresser in search of clothes.
“Marco and Sarah?” I tilt my head to the side as I watch him, not following what he’s talking about.
“Yeah, they’re trying to bring Chris down. They’ve orchestrated this whole thing.” He pulls open drawers quickly and huffs a breath when all he finds is sex toys.
“How’s that possible?”
He huffs in frustration. “Finley, please. I’ll explain everything to you later. I trust them.”
I try to take a step, but my knees are like Jell-O. I sink down onto the bed and place my face in my hands. My breathing hitches, and the tears stream down my face. My lungs refuse to fill with air as I take quick, panting breaths. My vision blurs, and black spots form in front of my eyes as my panic attack sets in.