Page 51

51

Layla

The front door slams shut, and I sit up. I’d fallen asleep again, the penthouse is deathly quiet, and I glance at the clock seeing that only an hour had passed since Katy delivered me the tea.

It’s likely Fletcher with the blood.

I stand and stretch, my back, my arse, my whole-body screams at me for sitting in an awkward position for so long. Groaning, I flex my muscles back to life as I walk to the hallway.

“Did you get it?” I look up and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as I come face to face with Terry Peyton.

He’s standing behind the huge vase of lilies and my eyes fall to the gun that he holds in his black leather gloves, a silencer on the end.

“Hello, Layla.”

“Katy!” I scream.

I realise as soon as I’ve called her, I’ve made a huge mistake.

“What is it?” she says. I feel her behind me.

It all happens in a split second. Terry’s eyes move from me to behind me where Katy is standing. I step forward, yelling no as I hear the pop of the gun firing.

No pain.

It doesn’t hit me, and I swivel to see my friend, my confidante, my financial advisor, the person who has always had my back, the person who, if it wasn’t for her, I’d have been on the streets and likely given up a long time ago.

I watch my best friend’s eyes widen in confusion, horror and fear as she looks down at herself, at the blood that is pooling from the gunshot wound in the top of her chest. She opens her mouth to say something, but nothing comes. Her face contorts in pain as she falls backwards onto the living room floor.

“No, no, no.” Tears jump to my eyes as I crawl to her, her eyes meet mine, wide and glassy. Tears track into her hairline, her blood seeping into the light carpet.

It will stain, I think stupidly.

I look at the chest wound, and naturally press my hands to it.

She goes to speak again but frowns, wheezing. Her eyes look past me. I turn around and see the butt of the gun coming towards me.

Pain explodes through my head.

And then darkness.