Page 77 of The Illusion of Power (Passion and Politics #1)

“Both of you shut the fuck up,” he screams, slamming his fist into the desk once again because the screen has yet to come back online. He stands, pushing his chair back so hard it knocks into the back of Charlie’s legs and sends her and Leigh Anne flying in Selene’s direction.

I don’t have time to see who lands where or if they actually collide with Selene because I have an opening I have to take.

I rush Jacob, tackling him to the ground before he even registers what’s going on.

We land in a heap near the door closest to Cal, who is far too still for my liking, and Jacob locks his legs around my waist, trying to leverage my weight to flip me.

I swing on him, landing blow after blow to alternating sides of his face in an unsuccessful attempt to stop that from happening.

The world spins, and then he’s on top of me, his triumphant laughs barely audible over the sounds of Charlie and Leigh Anne screaming about who Jacob loves more.

One glance in their direction tells me they’re fighting each other inches away from Selene’s toppled chair.

Her eyes are closed, and there’s a small puddle of blood forming under her temple, indicating she must have hit her head hard when they knocked her over.

I have to get her out of here.

I have to get Cal out of here.

I have to get us out of here.

“You think you can stop this, Beckham?” Jacob asks, rearing back and swinging so hard I feel one of my teeth dislodge. “You fucking can’t! You’re all going to die here. We’re going to?—”

The rest of his sentence is swallowed by the sound of a gunshot.

It’s muffled, but it’s so close it’s still loud.

Jacob pauses, spinning around slowly in the direction of the women fighting over him.

Charlie is on the ground. Leigh Anne is curled over her.

Their arms and hands are all tangled up, making it hard to tell who’s holding the gun and who’s hurt.

I don’t care either way.

With Jacob distracted, I reach blindly for my ankle, fingers searching frantically for the small blade I keep there.

Relief floods me when I grip the handle, and I waste no time pulling it free, plunging it into the side of Jacob’s neck.

His blood is a hot spew of crimson that covers my face and chest, flowing constantly even as he tries to stop the bleeding with shaking hands, moving faster when he pulls the blade out before falling off of me.

He goes quickly after that, gasping and gurgling while I fight to catch my breath.

“Noooooo!”

The screams come from the corner where Charlie and Leigh Anne were, and I don’t even have to sit up to know that it’s Charlie who survived.

But I do. In fact, I stand, watching as Charlie shoves Leigh Anne off of her.

She rolls slowly, landing on her back to reveal a wound to her stomach that’s not too different from the one her brother gave Cal all those years ago.

Except it is different because Cal survived, and Leigh Anne is very, very dead.

I look between her and Jacob and grin at Charlie. “And then there was one.”

“Fuck you, Beck,” she spits, wiping angrily at her bleeding nose. Looks like Leigh Anne was giving her a run for her money before she killed her, but she still seems to have no qualms about squaring up with me.

“You don’t have to do this,” I tell her, raising my fists because I know she won’t listen. There’s been too much animosity between us over the years. There’s too much hate in her heart now, and I just killed the man that she loves. Of course, she wants to do this.

I don’t know when we agreed to hand-to-hand combat, but neither of us reached for any of the weapons available to us.

Charlie rolls her shoulders back, rocking from side to side on her tiptoes like a boxer.

She’s all tension and radiating anger, so I intentionally keep my stance loose and open, knowing it’ll piss her off even more if she thinks I’m not taking the threat she poses to me seriously.

As predicted, she comes at me fast. Throwing a wild series of kicks and punches that are borderline sloppy but still incredibly vicious.

I match every blow with the same amount of intensity, knowing it’s either her or us, and it can’t be us.

It won’t be us. She tries to work me into a corner, but I refuse to be boxed in, backing out of the door instead.

Charlie trips over Jacob’s body, and she wails loudly as she throws herself at me, catching me around the neck and using the momentum to swing herself onto my back as I stumble out onto the platform.

Her hands are wrapped around my neck, applying pressure to my carotid with lethal precision. Specks of black start to float in front of me, and I know I only have seconds to stop her from rendering me unconscious.

“Just go to sleep, Beck,” she grunts, pressing harder when my knees start to buckle. “I promise I’ll make Selene and Cal’s deaths quick.”

My next move isn’t artful. It isn’t well thought out or skillfully deployed; it’s just desperate and determined.

Reaching back, I grab what little hair Charlie has on her head and pull hard.

She yelps in surprise, losing her grip on my neck while I search for a better hold.

I find purchase in the fabric of her leather jacket and grasp it tight, using it to yank her over my shoulder and inadvertently sending her tumbling off the platform.

I watch her flailing limbs as she careens towards the ground, landing on her neck with a sickening crack that will haunt my dreams for the rest of my days. My breaths are rough and ragged as I rest my forehead on the railing and accept that it’s finally done.

Jacob is dead.

Charlie is dead.

Leigh Anne is dead.

Their revenge plot has been foiled, the secrets and betrayals exposed, and we’re still here.

Relief swells in my chest, and I feel like I’m floating on air when I walk back into that room.

Cal is up now. He has a huge gash in the back of his head from where Leigh Anne hit him, but he’s tending to Selene’s wounds instead.

She’s no longer tied to the chair, and she reaches for me when I collapse onto the floor between them.

I’m barely keeping myself upright, but I don’t complain when they each rest their head on one of my shoulders because their added weight isn’t destabilizing in the least. It’s grounding.

It’s reassuring. It’s proof that they’re safe, that I saved them, that I haven’t just held good things in my hands, I’ve used them to fight for them as well.

And yes, it’s true that I’ve lost many of those battles, but the only thing that matters in this moment is that, this time, I won.