Relinquish(68)

“Take your shirt off,” I demand, aiming the gun at him.

“Now, why would I do that?” He raises an eyebrow.

“I need to see it. I need to know it was you before I kill you,” I threaten, thrusting the gun toward him.

The side door that contained the laughter opens, but I don’t look away from Miller.

“Charlie!” Landon hollers.

“Oh, f*ck!” Roman shouts.

“What are you doing, Charlie?” Landon questions cautiously.

“He killed my mother!” I yell, sobbing. “I was only nine, but I remember the tattoo of wings,” I cry.

“She wants me to admit to killing her whore of a mother,” Miller confirms, giving Landon a look I don’t understand.

“You,” Landon whispers, taking on a confused tone as he stares at me like he’s just now seeing me for the very first time. I ignore it, my only mission centered on Miller and his tattoo.

“Take your shirt off. Now.” I cock the gun like they do in the movies, loading a round in the chamber. The clicking of it placing a bullet marked for my mother’s killer echoes through the room. I gasp, it actually worked.

Miller looks over at Landon and Roman, then he slowly starts to unbutton his shirt. My hands begin to sweat, causing them to slip from the gun. He pulls it off his shoulders and tosses it onto the floor beside him.

“Turn,” I growl. Miller swallows and spins, holding his arms out, the ink on his back on full display. My eyes widen, and my mouth parts as I shake my head. It just says ‘Blackwell’.

“That can’t be,” I mumble, dumbfounded. “No, it was you!” I reaffirm, pointing the gun at him. Landon walks by his father’s side and I swing the gun toward him, not sure what he’s doing. My nerves and inner conflict are making me erratic.

Landon slowly starts to unbutton his white dress shirt, his head lifted.

“What are you doing?” I ask, pointing the gun between him and his father. Landon pulls on his sleeves and yanks his shirt off. He slowly turns, showing big, black wings staining his back. A strangled cry leaves my mouth, my knees threatening to buckle as I take in the wings that haunt me. My eyes catch one white feather on the bottom. That doesn’t match my dreams, though. My legs shake and my blood rushes to my chest, trying to keep up with my racing heart.

“No,” I whisper, shaking my head.

Landon turns and looks at his father.

“See. I didn’t kill your mother.” Miller looks at Landon and smirks. “He did.”

Tears flood my eyes. “Is that true?” I question, my voice cracking with emotion.

“It’s complicated,” Landon starts.

“Yes or no. Did you kill my mom?” I scream, my throat hurting.

Landon lowers his head and swallows.

“Yes,” he whispers. My body goes numb. The only feeling I register is the ache radiating in my chest. I lift my head, my chin trembling with emotion as my finger pulls the trigger. A loud bang echoes through the room and a bullet slams into Landon, causing him to fall to the floor.

The sound takes me out of my shock, and I scream and drop the gun. I shot him. I f*cking shot him! My ears drown out all sounds. All the hollering from Roman, Miller, and Veronica. Silence. Everything slows down, my vision wobbling as I take in Landon’s family panicking.

Roman, Miller, and Veronica all rush to Landon’s side in what seems like slow motion. I see blood creep out from under Landon, and I sob, my body shaking as I cry loudly.

“I didn’t mean—” I swallow hard and look toward the door. I glance back at the Blackwells and see Roman on his phone. At that point, I know I need to run. I look back down at Landon, not moving. I strengthen my legs and sprint out of the office, out the front door and toward a black car parked in front. I climb behind the driver’s side and pray there are keys inside. My hands search the steering wheel, and when my fingers find them in the ignition, I cry harder with the relief.

Starting the car with trembling hands, I peel out of the driveway and race toward Jayden.

I just killed Landon. My mother is dead. I have to run. Those three things are on repeat in my head as I drive toward the city.

***

I head to the strip where the sidewalks are littered with people going in and out of casinos and shops. I park the stolen car on the side of the road and get out, knowing I can’t drive the car to my place or pass the heart of Vegas without a cop seeing the stolen vehicle.

I shot Landon, probably killed him. I close my eyes, the look of shock racing across his face as he fell to the floor flashing behind my eyes. I didn’t mean to shoot him. I was in shock, my finger reacting without real thought. My heart aches knowing I might have killed the only person in this world I deeply care about, maybe love. The heat of the day instantly warms my skin when I step out. A woman with a tube top for a shirt and designer-looking jeans slows her stride, her eyes scanning me from top to bottom before her lip curls in distaste and she walks on. I furrow my brows at her reaction and look down at myself, curious at what she was looking at when I find myself in a camisole and PJ shorts, no shoes. I’m standing out like a sore thumb.

“Fuck,” I whisper, running my hand through my hair in agitation. My eyes catch a door swinging open in an alley way, a guy in an apron and chef hat swinging a garbage can over his head and emptying the contents into a dumpster. Without another thought, I sprint down the alley. I can’t walk along the strip in this; I’ll cause too much attention for sure. I run. I run until my head throbs, my clothes are soaked with sweat, and my feet feel like they’ve been thrusting against razor blades. I run until I finally reach the shitty apartment I shared with Jayden.