Page 87 of Fatal Fantasy

Besides the six guards I wrangled from the crashed SUV, there were three more in Mr. Cassini’s car, and at this very moment, they’re staring us down with automatic rifles in their hands, the trigger-happy motherfuckers aimed and ready to blow our heads clean off.

“Come here, Principessina,” Massi says, gesturing for her to come back on our side of the invisible lines drawn in the dirt, but his voice is overpowered by another man that’s stepped into the Don’s place.

“Enough!” He screams, shooting one stray bullet into the air to garner our attention, but my focus is only on Carter, ensuring that nobody except me or Massi lays a finger on her.

“Uncle?” Carter stares up at the man in awe, using her hand to block the sun from her eyes as if she can’t believe what she’s seeing.

“Carter, you’re coming with me, per your father’s wishes.” He holds his hand out for her to take, but she shakes her head in response, inching closer toward Massi and I.

There’s no doubt in my mind that the Cassini’s have kept their bloodline pure because the second Carter’s Uncle steps onto the sand, the resemblance is uncanny, the three of them carbon copies of each other.

Carter’s baby blue eyes resemble the world’s most powerful ocean, a force of Mother Nature that could kill a man without even trying, but her Uncle and dead father share that same shade, and it’s almost like looking into a creepy mirror maze.

“I’m not going anywhere with you. If I haven’t made myself perfectly clear already, I’m not fucking interested in this inbred family and it’s wishes. You want the throne, Uncle? It’s yours, take it! He’s fucking dead, so take the only thing you’ve ever wanted from me, and let me live my life on my terms,” she pleads, tears forming at the corners of her eyes, but she inhales a deep breath as the words leave her lips, attempting to keep the emotions at bay.

“The second you plunged that knife into his frail old bones, the throne became mine. I don’t give a damn what you do, Carter, if you want to spend the rest of your days whoring yourself out to whatever company you keep, that’s your business. But these are not my men. So, if you won’t come with me, then you’ll fight your way out of this on your own, kid.” He abruptly gives us his back, buttons his suit jacket, and steps away from the murder scene, his interest in Carter instantly evaporating, but leaving us with a big mess to clean up.

“He was dying anyway! We did you all a favor. Welcome to the ranks of the unemployed, just like you did to us when you murdered our fathers! We’re fucking even!” Massi shouts at the snipers, their aim not faltering in the slightest, but they keep perfect poker faces, not even blinking at his words.

Carter’s uncle has clearly been planning for a coup of his own, and based on Carter’s stories of how hard he pushed back on her taking over, he’s happy to let her die here, as long as he can rule the Cassini throne.

It’s one less man we have to fight after the murder we just committed, but doesn’t make this moment any easier to face, as we’re staring at a deck that’s so stacked against us, you’d think we stumbled into the deserts of Vegas, not California.

“Surrender to us, and they walk,” one of the men says, and Massi immediately laughs, a deranged sound echoing through the sand as Carter turns to face us, then right back to the snipers perched against the car.

“They walk. Put your guns down,” she bargains, but Massi’s laughter dies, and my jaw pops open in shock, afraid of what she’s going to do, or say, next.

Shock isn’t something to brush off, or play fast and loose with, but Carter has to be dealing with some kind of post traumatic response in the moments after murdering her father, and also gaining her freedom, all within seconds.

My head is spinning, the fear of losing our girl settling deep in my bones, because after all of this, there’s still a shred of doubt I carry in my heart that maybe, just maybe, she doesn’t want to live out the forever we’ve planned not once, but twice.

The latter isn’t an option, though, because I went through hell and back to become strong enough to rescue her, and I won’t be leaving without her, whether that be alive and kicking, or rotting in a body bag.

Carter is ours, she belongs to us, and although I was unconscious the first time around, I refuse to let her walk away from my brother and I for a second time.

FORTY-EIGHT

JASPER

If you were to ask me how I picture my last moments on this Earth, I’d easily say that I imagine myself with Carter, and Tyson.

No other circumstances, no requirements for how I was able to live my life, or measure the happiness I felt during my time here, but the two most important people to me would be right by my side.

Of course, I didn’t expect to be in a stand off, in the middle of the desert, and fully prepared to die if my Principessina takes one more step in any direction that isn’t right back into my arms.

After all this time, I thought we were past this, that the moment she chose her Family over us all those months ago was buried amongst the rubble left back at Emory, but she’s snaked her way into my heart once more, and yet again, I find myself staring down the barrel of a gun, painted as the fucking fool.

“Carter, I swear to fucking God, if you take one more step, I’ll shoot you. I will kill you, Principessina, rather than watch you walk away from me,” I warn, my finger squeezing the trigger, but to my surprise, she turns to face both Tyson and I.

“Let me save you, okay? I left last time to save Tyson, and I don’t regret that for a single second, so please, let me save you both. Whatever they do to me, I’ll find my way back to you,” she begs, sand-streaked tears streaming down her cheeks, but I’m not listening to her words, instead, absorbing her body language.

Last time, she was defiant, in total control, and sacrificed herself to save Tyson, but this time, she’s standoffish, almost in defense mode, and I’m struggling to read her mind.

Normally, we can communicate without words, but right now, I’m blocked from her thoughts, only using her body for clues on how she wants to handle this, because from where I’m standing, she doesn’t have a death wish.

“Baby girl, it is not your job to save us. We save you, okay? Just come over here, and we’ll figure this out,” Tyson pleads, his voice strained and desperate, but Carter doesn’t budge, her feet shuffling further away from us as she attempts to turn back around.

“Make your choice, Miss Cassini,” one of the gunmen says, and she snaps her eyes shut, raking her fingers through her curls while she contemplates her next move.