Page 42 of Vendetta

As soon as we were far enough away from the house not to be overheard, I turned on Cruz. “What the actual fuck is this shit? You fucking maniac. Are you out of your goddamned mind? How do you know Nico? Why’d you put me in the trunk? Where are you taking me?” Questions raced through my mind and straight out of my mouth. There was no filter and no stopping until I realized I was standing in the moonlight in nothing but a torn, see-through slip of a dress. I glanced down at myself and quickly wrapped my arms across my chest, blocking his view.

“Rosa, you need to get back in the car. You can’t be out here. It’s too dangerous.” Cruz’s eyes never wavered from my face.

“What? And being kidnapped by my own fucking bodyguard isn’t too dangerous, Cruz? If that even is your real name.”

It probably was; otherwise, he never would’ve passed my father’s background check, but honestly, how the fuck had he done that if he was just going to kidnap me?

“You can either get back in the car, or I will put you back in the car.” He took a step toward me.

“You have no idea how many people are in that house. You’re probably outnumbered and no doubt outmatched.” I let my eyes trail down his body derisively, but the butterflies dancing happily in my stomach betrayed the lies on my tongue. I shook the stray thought away. “You’re going to need all the guns you can get. Let me help you save the omegas. Then I’ll get back in the car.” I shifted my weight, ready to react if he tried to grab me.

Instead of tackling me as I’d expected, he handed me a gun.

“Don’t fucking shoot me,” he said and walked back up the drive.

This had to be a trick. The gun must not be loaded, or something. I pulled the slide back and caught the gleam of a bullet. Nope, it was definitely loaded.

Okay, then.

Cruz ignored me as he headed up the road, giving me the perfect opportunity to shoot him in the back. I was tempted, but it was true, we didn’t know how many people were in the house. Killing him now would likely get me just as dead, or worse.

Much worse.

Still paying his precarious position no mind, he grabbed his jacket from inside the open minivan and tossed it to me as we walked past. It would’ve been a lot easier to shoot him if he went back to trying to stuff me in the trunk, and stopped being so fucking nice.

When we strode back into the barn, Nico was hanging up his cell. His dark eyes shifted from me to Cruz, then back to me again. If looks could kill, this whole hemisphere would be a crater.

“She’s helping.” Cruz shrugged by way of explanation.

I could only imagine the conversation they’d be having once this was over. That wasn’t my problem, though. Saving these people was the only thing I was worried about right now. “Are we doing this or what?”

Nico pulled a hefty revolver from the small of his back and headed toward the front of the barn. “Backup is on its way. All we have to do is hold tight.”

Fuck that. That bitch drugged me and put me in a fucking cage. There was no hold tight. These people needed justice.

From down the hill, a shrill voice echoed up to us. “Billy? Johnny? Where you at? Did you see lights down by the gate?”

That fucking cunt. She dragged me into her van and shot me full of some kind of tranquilizer. Which, I realized, might still be working to some extent. Shouldn’t I be less calm than this? The logical thing would’ve been to shoot Cruz as soon as he handed me his gun and ran the fuck out of there, but I didn’t. No idea what that said about my mental state.

First, stop that crazy bitch from hurting anyone else. Then deal with the hot alpha kidnappers.

Priorities, Rosa.

No sooner had that thought crossed my mind than the bitch in question came bobbing down the path to the house with the barrel of a shotgun resting on her shoulder. She was looking back toward the gate, not paying attention to what was going on in the barn, not yet anyway. But as soon as she came around the doorway, her jaw dropped open, and her shotgun dropped into place, aiming right at us.

Time slowed. Every movement was like wading through molasses, and the throb of my heart was deafening. The gun in my hand weighed ten-thousand pounds as I raised it from my side.

I breathed out.

The cold metal of the trigger gave under the pressure of my finger, sending a bullet hurtling from the barrel and straight through that woman’s gaping mouth in a spray of blood and brain matter. She stood there for a second, as if she hadn’t fully registered that she was dead yet, and then her body crumpled with a sickening thud, and my stomach lurched.

I’d never killed anyone before. It was nothing like what I’d expected. I’d practiced target shooting plenty, but this was different. The sound of her flabby flesh hitting the ground caught me off guard. I swallowed down the bile bubbling its way up my throat and lowered the gun to my side. My ears rang, and my hands shook, but I hardly noticed as I stared at the growing puddle of slick, red liquid pooling around the bitch’s head and seeping into the dirt.

In my stunned stupor, Nico made his way to my side and plucked the gun from my trembling hand. “That’s probably enough for you tonight.” He stuck it into the waist of his pants and took off toward the house with Cruz trailing behind. “I guess we’re doing this.”

As Cruz passed, he grinned and said, “Nice shot, hellcat,” before disappearing down the steps leading to the house.

“I was aiming for her chest,” I muttered, still dizzy and reeling from the reality of what I’d done. I couldn’t believe I’d shot someone. Holy shit.