“Yes or fucking no?” she demands, waving the gun and making him jump.
“No. Okay, no. I didn’t. I lied. That’s not why. Rochelle is a nobody…”
Maria grins. “You’re a liar, Lucien,” she says shaking her head ever so slightly as a strange calmness comes over her. “Enjoy rotting in hell.”
BANG!
Chapter 19
My eyes bug out of my head as Lucien’s body crashes to the ground, his hands desperately clutching at his chest as Maria screams in horror, shocked by what she’s just done.
“NOOO,” she shrieks in a panic, rushing down to Lucien’s side as the one guard who was willing to remain loyal throws his arms around her waist and tries to haul her back, wanting to get away from the scene so he can claim she has an alibi when the police come searching. The amount of times I’ve had to lie about Maria’s and Lucien’s whereabouts is just ridiculous. I wonder how many of my lies have saved them from jail time.
Blood pours from Lucien’s chest and I know that if he doesn’t get help quickly, he’s going to bleed out, yet I don’t see anyone rushing in to save him. I never intended for tonight to end like this, but I have no complaints.
If Lucien dies here, then so do all my problems. I might have made a point in burning down their mansion, burning down the house that is home to all the nastiness in the world, all the bad memories, and horrible crimes acted against me, but as long as Marcus’ money is coming my way, I was forever going to be hunted by Lucien Valentine.
I was a fool to assume it would end here tonight, but how could I have seen this? How the hell would someone guess that a crazed wife would pull a gun on her mobster husband over a little jealousy from twenty years ago? Maria might have put an end to her own problems tonight, but in doing so, she’s also put a stop to mine and created a shitload more of her own.
I will not go down for this. If the cops come asking questions, they will know who pulled that gun even if it means admitting my involvement tonight.
Maria gets pulled to the back of the SUV while kicking and screaming to get back to her dying husband, but at this point, I can’t tell if it’s to kill him quicker or if she wants to try and save him. Judging from the crazed look in her eyes I’d dare say she wants him dead, but no, that shit is mine tonight.
If Maria got the pleasure of being the one to shoot him, then I at least deserve to watch him die.
Yep, okay…I think it’s about time that I admit how fucked-up I’ve become.
What kind of eighteen-year-old girl willingly wants to stand above someone and watch the life drain out of them? Last night I killed a man and tonight I’m going to watch another die.
I’m so seriously fucked up. I should get a medal.
I never used to be this way. There was once a time that I was a good girl, filled with innocence and love. That seems like a lifetime ago. It’s certainly not the woman I am now. I’m hard, untrusting, and cold, and the only time I feel anything like the girl I used to be is when Slade is there, trying to remind me that I’m better than all of this.
The boys stare in horror, watching as the devil is finally brought down. The guards haul ass, knowing that cops will be here soon, yet I find myself unable to move. Within seconds, the door is slammed on Maria and the SUV is pulling away, the tires screeching against the drive.
Disappointment floods me. I wanted her to suffer and I wanted it to be at my hands, but losing her home and knowing that it was me who took it is going to have to be enough. Without her mansion, she’s a nobody. No one is going to take her in and nobody is going to offer her a shoulder to cry on. She’s alone.
I’d be a fool not to assume that she won’t build herself back up and when she does, she’s going to be worse than she’s ever been, but she’ll leave me alone. This fight is between me and Lucien, while hers was wrongly with my mom.
The headlights disappear from sight, leaving us in the flickering glow of the flames that slowly lap at the sides of this hell hole. There’s just enough light left for me to watch the life drain from Lucien’s eyes.
I’ve imagined this day for years. I’ve thought of all the million ways a man could die and I’ve pictured myself doing each and every one, yet there’s something oddly soothing about this. The burden of killing him isn’t on my hands and right now, I don’t know if I should be happy or sad about it, all that matters is that it’s over.