And they’d both just turned his back on all of it. I couldn’t believe that they would do that to me, to my family. I couldn’t believe none of us saw the signs, that none of us had seen this coming. I wondered if Mateo was the one to kill my mother—the woman who had cared for him when his wife was shot down. Had he tortured her first? Or had he been gentle? Had it killed him to take her life? Had he even flinched?
Or had Gemma been the one to do it?
I forced back a sob as we neared the yacht. It looked to be about a hundred and twenty meters, with four separate decks and the cockpit on top. The exterior was sleek, the frame a burnt sienna and white. The decks were staggered, receding from the prow of the ship.
It was a luxury yacht through and through. I could make out a double-decker pool with a clear bottom that overlooked the bottom floor. Glass lined the walls of the third and fourth levels, though they were washed in darkness now. It was a testament to everything the Snake had accomplished in the last year. The ship had to cost at least a hundred mil.
Before we could reach the gangplank, shots rang out, bullets scratching against the cement at our feet. Dante’s hand lashed out, dragging me back behind the corner of the closest warehouse. Killian rolled behind another, cursing. There were three men on the deck, one of the gangplank—all of them Aegis and all of them equally loaded.
“We need to take them out,” Killian called out.
“No shit, Sherlock,” Dante grunted, taking a few shots at the man on the gangplank. He finally hit him in the shoulder, the man rolling into the water with a splash. “One down. Three more to go.”
“Two,” I said, taking aim. My target fell backward onto the deck and didn’t get back up.
“One!” Killian shouted, taking down the right guy just as I took aim at the man in the center.
“Zero.” I dropped my gun, stepping out from behind our barrier. “Let’s go.”
Killian followed us, covering our backs just in case any more surprises popped up. We rushed up the gangplank. The yacht was even larger now that we were on it. The flashy show of wealth made me sick to my stomach, knowing just where Mateo had gotten all this money.
Dante motioned towards the cockpit above us on the second level. “Kill, stick to the first and second decks. Work your way up. I’ll head to the cabin and check there first. Sienna, start at the third deck.”
“Wait–” I gripped his arm. “If you see Gemma, leave her to me.” He nodded, understanding immediately.
We split up, heading our separate ways. Killian headed towards the pool, gun raised and ready, as Dante searched for the stairs that would take him down to the cabin. I headed up the first flight of steps I found, taking them two at a time. Just before I hit the open deck, I crouched, peeking over the edge of the railing. The third deck was empty, but looks could be deceiving.
Hesitantly, I stepped out, careful of my steps so they wouldn’t make too much noise. I crept along the deck, keeping my eyes and ears open. Now that I didn’t have the sound of gunshots ricocheting in my ears, the shipyard was too quiet. I could barely make out the sounds of the city across the water. My breath was too loud, my blood pounding in my ears.
Footsteps sounded behind me just as I rounded the corner. Spinning around, I prepared to shoot until I realized who it was. I froze, my finger stilling at the trigger.
Gemma stood before me, looking unharmed and well. In fact, she looked great. Her long hair was pulled back from her round face into a high ponytail. She wore all black in a long-sleeved shirt that clung to her curves and tight leggings. A thigh holster was wrapped around her thigh, its gun already in her hands. Her head tilted, hair falling over her shoulder.
“You should have just run.” Her voice sounded different. Colder. More distant. It wasn’t Gemma’s voice. At least, it wasn’t my best friend’s voice. “You were stupid to come here.”
I tensed as she took a step closer, trying to find my own voice. “Why?” I forced the words out. They scratched along my throat. “Why would you betray me?”
Gemma snorted. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am serious. I want to know why you’d do this to me. We were like sisters.” The gun shook in my hand. I wanted to kill her, but I had to know.
“No,” she said flatly, “we weren’t. You might have believed that, but we were never sisters. How could I be when I was always constantly stuck in your shadow. Even my own father paid more attention to you than he ever did me. At least until I proved to be useful.”
“What are you talking about.” I let my gun drop an inch in surprise.
“It was my idea for us to get closer. It was around the end of high school that I realized I could use our relationship to help my father. He hadn’t seen his vision just yet, but I knew where he was heading—even when I was that young. Because, you see, I’m actually smart.” She gave a bitter laugh, gun waving in the hair before her hands settled on her hips. She didn’t seem too concerned that my own gun was still pointing at her heart.
“Not that anyone would have actually believed me if I’d said otherwise. I knew what you all thought of me. I read it nearly every day online. While your pageant girl persona had been carefully curated, mine was forced upon me from the start. I never got to prove my worth. Never had a say in how people saw me. Because all they saw was you. I was just the sidekick.
“Half of this was my plan, you know. My idea. My father just filled it out a bit more. I was his eyes and ears, your confidant to gain access to things even my father didn’t know about.” She stepped closer. “And you know what? You never even realized.” Gemma tapped the barrel against her temple. “You were too fucking stupid to figure it out. I couldn’t believe it. The prodigy heiress of a fucking mafia family, and you couldn’t even see what was right in front of you.”
“It’s not too late.” I wasn’t sure if I could do it. To kill her. Memories flashed through my mind. Half of me knew I had to kill her for everything she’s done, but the other half pleaded with me to give her a chance.
“Except it is,” she spat. “You really expect me to believe you won’t kill me? That you won’t kill my father for what we’ve done?” She laughed again, pointing her gun at my chest. “You really do think I’m stupid, don’t you?”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I said slowly, emphasizing my words.
“Oh, but darling,” the edges of her lips twitched, “I want to hurt you.”