“Your son is no longer your concern, Aidan. The minute you draw your last breath right along with his slut of a mother, her mother, and if my bullet aimed right where I wanted it, her dad, too. Then it looks like the boy is mine. And since you’re going to tell me exactly where our mother is before I kill you, well, the way I see it, I’m his next of kin. Looks like I’ll be raising your boy.” His cynical words sting. Cut jaggedly through my heart. Well then, fuck it. If he wants to kill me, then bring it the fuck on.
I look at every single one of these fuckers, my head snapping from the man on his hands and knees still trying to regain his composure, to Matthew, the betrayer to Salvatore. Then to the arrogant bastard who put this plan all together. That’s when I realize Anna got away. Time for me to stall. And by doing so, I crunch my skull into Matthew’s. God that hurt. I feel the pain from my blow to his head for all of five seconds before I feel a heavier blow to the back of my head.
“What about the little bitch? You know she will tell them where the hell we are. I’m telling you now, man, there is no time to fuck around. Salvatore is one mean bastard. You need to finish them all off now.” This is coming from Matthew, whose gun is still aimed at me, while he holds his other hand over the gash on his forehead. He should be nervous. They all should be. Then it hits me. Matthew’s phone. If he has the one on him that he uses for Salvatore, then they’re closer to finding us than I thought.
I allow my ragged form to lapse the rest of the way to the ground as I roll my eyes, listening to Matthew carry on. You should have thought about the consequences, you fucker, before you committed the ultimate sin to the family. Death by association and all that shit.
“You’re right. I have a plane to catch, but first, I need to know where my whore of a mother is. Stan, pull your dick out of your ass and drag the bitch and her mother out of the van. He can watch them die first.” Stan? You’re going to die, Stan.
Still, I don’t move. I’m not sure if I can. Christ. This cannot be happening. It’s me against the three of them. My hands are literally fucking tied. Whoever is coming needs to get here like now, goddamn it.
I squint ever so slightly, the sound of gravel crunching from the other side of the van marking my ears like a dead man walking.
“Drop her right here. Right next to her lover.” I smell her before I see her slammed to the ground with more force than she can handle. She shutters. Then he kicks her in her stomach, her frame rolling over to face me as she sputters and coughs, clenching her stomach. Those stunning eyes I fell in love with flutter open, shocked.
“Aidan. Oh, my god.” Her voice is hoarse.
“Shh, Baby. It’s all right.” My strong girl loses it then, she’s no longer with me. “No. No, it’s not. They… They have him.” She bolts up, her long messy, matted hair flying wildly. “Where is he? Where is my baby?” Loud, maddening screams come from within her.
“Jesus Christ. Not this again. Bring out the kid. Just fuck it. Bring them all out. I’m done here.” My head is about to explode. The rigorousness from Junior’s squeaky, high-pitched voice alone is enough to make me want to light the damn ignition. Jesus.
My skin melts off of me when I sit up, watching as Stan drags a hysterical Grace out of the van, her fingers clawing, grasping at Stan’s hands clenched around her throat.
A taste in my mouth so bitter exudes from every fiber I have. “That’s enough, you fucking bitch. Does it make you all feel like a man to lay your hands on a woman? Because the way I see it, all three of you are fucking pussies. The only man here you have handcuffed because you all know if you un-cuffed me, I’d fucking kill you,” I fume. I honestly see sparks flying out of my mouth, that’s how angry I am. How close to the end of my tether I am to help them all.
“The way I see it, we’re the smart ones here, fuckface. None of us are about to die. None of us are about to watch those we love die, and none of us can do fuck all about it. Now, sit back and watch.” Stan turns his attention back to Grace. He lifts her up by her throat. Her eyeballs bulging, she’s choking and sobbing. I cannot sit here and watch him kill her. One of these motherfuckers can shoot me in my back.
“Oh, god. We have to do something. He’s going to kill her. Wait,” Deidre murmurs as she sticks her hand inside of her shirt, pulling out a screwdriver. “Don’t move,” she whispers. Fuck, if I could kiss her right now, I would. Fuck that. I’m marrying this woman.
It’s comical, really. She has placed my weapon in my hand. A screwdriver. The funny thing about it is, I can tell this handy tool is mine. The worn-down wooden grain of the handle tells me it was a gift from my grandfather. I’m going to pick these cuffs off in record time. “Stay close, baby,” I whisper, my eyes trained on the other side of the van where Matthew stands, watching Stan.