“He’s way too confident for being cornered,” Yates bit out.
As we grew closer, I realized that Dahlia had rivets of tears down her face, but her eyes were dark with determination instead of fear. When she looked at all of us, relief filled her gaze, and I could see that she thought something had happened to us. Had he told her we’d been hurt? Had he made her doubt we’d come?
Death itself wouldn’t stop me from saving Dahlia.
When her gaze finally met mine, I saw the trust there, and it nearly had me feeling a euphoric sense of relief. Her love and trust were constant, the shadows she could see in us meaning nothing to her in comparison. She had known. She had never doubted us, and it was like the final snap I needed to pull everything into place.
I loved Dahlia Aldridge, and in order to protect her, I knew what I needed to do.
“So good of you to join us, boys. I figured this would be something you would want to see.”
I didn’t ask, and he didn’t give us time.
When he raised a gun, smiling largely and pointing it towards Dahlia, I didn’t think twice. My gun went up, my finger went down on the trigger, and before my father could even go to shoot, I made a decision.
I killed the bastard.