“That’s not how this shit works, and you know it,” he replies. “Man the fuck up, Brandon. You hated your papa. You told me yourself.”
“You didn’t have to fucking have him killed!”
“I did you a favor so you could finally get out there into the real world, and this is how you thank me?”
“A favor?!” I growl, my voice breaking from despair.
It’s so damn hard not to shoot him right now, but I don’t wanna hurt Dixie. She’s not the one who’s at fault here.
“Wanna kill me? Go ahead and try,” he says, pushing the gun farther into her skin.
Another tear runs down her cheek because she can’t stop looking at her dad. His death is all my fault. I won’t have hers on my hands too.
“Give up, Brandon,” my uncle says.
I swallow back my pride, and say, “If you promise she’ll live.”
“I can’t do that, Brandon. You know that. She’s the only reason I came here,” he says. “But I’m willing to let you live. I might even forgive you for your transgression if you work hard enough.”
I wanna shoot his goddamn jaw off. That’s how much I despise hearing him talk. But I gotta push through. I can see it in her eyes … Dixie’s about to act. I have to give her a chance to escape. Anything to make sure she stays alive, even if I have to lay down my life for it to happen. It’s the least I could do after all the suffering I put her through.
“Fine. You win,” I say through gritted teeth, and I put my gun up high in the air.
“On the floor,” my uncle says. “And kick it to me.”
I slowly place it on the floor. As my uncle focuses his attention on the gun I slide toward him, Dixie swings her head against his nose so hard he buckles, bleeding from the face. She instantly leaps toward the gun. Both of them shoot at each other. He hits the floor right beside her head. She hits him in the shins.
He topples over, sinking to the floor, his gun still in his hand.
However, her next shot blows off half his hand.
He screams out loud in agony, looking at the gaping, bloody wound in his hand.
Her aim is what saved us both, and I can’t help but smile at her wit and persistence.
“You deserve all the pain and more, motherfucker,” she hisses, kicking away his gun so far he could never reach it.
She steps backward, coming to my side of the shed. She lowers herself to my level and then hands me my gun. Our eyes connect, and I feel like with only one look, we’ve told each other a thousand words we could never say.
And without thinking, without even looking, I shoot my uncle straight in the heart.
“He was your uncle,” she murmurs, looking at his body slumped to the floor.
“He never was. Not when he killed his own brother without mercy. He never was family. All it was, was a damn lie.” I bite my lip and shake my head, disappointed at myself for believing him all this time.
“That must’ve been hard for you, though,” she says.
I look up at her while she kneels beside me. Even after everything she went through, she’s still thinking about me? I can’t believe how foolish she is … or how jealous I am of that superhuman trait.
I reach for her face and cradle it, and she leans into my hand. She’s so damn considerate, I can’t think straight. The urge to kiss her almost becomes too strong to ignore, but I stop myself just in time. It wouldn’t be right.
Her dad just died.
And from the look on her face, I can tell it hits her hard.
Not as hard as the death of her brothers but still hard enough to make her teary-eyed.
I reach out for her and pull her into my embrace.
Not because I need her, but because she needs me right now. She needs someone to hold while she bawls her eyes out. And for a while, we just sit there, soaking up the pain in the truth we’ve just been given.
After searching for it all this time, I never thought it would hurt this much.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Brandon
When the dust has settled, Dixie called an ambulance for me. I didn’t want to go with them at first, but she assured me they wouldn’t take me into custody and hand me over to the police. After a few days, I found out she told the police that my uncle was responsible for everything. That he killed her dad and her brothers and my papa.
With him, the circle of death ended.
But I never ceased feeling guilty.
We haven’t spoken since that day in the shed. She hasn’t come to visit me in the hospital, and I don’t blame her. Who would visit the man who haunted you for half your life? Who destroyed your family and your love for life? How do you come back from that?