Vicious Minds (Children of Vice #4)(80)

Wednesday, September 20th





I said nothing and didn’t dare look away from her. Making it out of this alive depended on her staying focused. “You’re going to be all right.”

“Maybe you don’t understand the situation here!” he yelled, and I still didn’t look at his face.

BANG!

I flinched for the first time since I was a child when he shot into her shoulder. She bit her bottom lip hard, swallowing her screams and her pain. The blood soaked through her blouse. She wasn’t strong enough. If he pushed her, she’d break down…and this would escalate. I needed this motherfucker alive so Wyatt could kill him.

“Look at me!” he bellowed, and I did then, unable to stop my hands from shaking. It might have looked like fear, or even rage, but it was excitement.

“Let. Her. Go,” I said through clenched teeth, trying not to laugh.

“Fuck you!” I shouted, watching as her leg buckled and she fell forward, muted whimpers the only thing coming out of her mouth. He caught her and held her tight to him.

When this was all over, I do believe I deserved an Oscar for my performance of the pissed-off husband.

Before he could finish whatever the fuck he was saying, Ivy brought up her hand, holding a shard of something I’d broken, and swiped it across his face and over his eye as quickly as she could. “I have long arms, motherfucker!”

Jesus motherfucking Christ, Ivy! Do nothing! I said fucking do nothing! Damn it why was it so hard? It was just a few bullets!

Fine. Time for plan B.

I lunged from the window over the couch, tackling him to the ground, my fist colliding with his face.

“You little—” I started to yell, distracting him from the shift I made in my body, allowing him to shoot me.

The plan was for me to have so much concern over Ivy I let him go. I’d be worried about saving Ivy’s life, and Wyatt would go kill him later. Of course, I didn’t tell Ivy her dying was part of the plan. I simply said Elroy wouldn’t kill her, and he wouldn’t. That was for Calliope to do in a similar manner that Ivy had done Klarissa. Calliope reveled in the irony of it all. And she called me dramatic.

Then again, I did just let myself get shot.

Elroy and I fought until—

Bang!

“Fucking shit—” he cried out, grabbing his shoulder.

“Hurts like a bitch, doesn’t it?” Ivy said, pointing the pistol at him. He froze, staring at her. “You’re right. I’m a little insane. You shot me and my husband, Elroy. You threatened to rape me…IN OUR FUCKING HOUSE!”

“Cousin—”

“SHUT UP!”

“Run,” I said to him. She’d lost perspective. She was enraged and would, in fact, kill him if she could. I didn’t need her fucking things up any more than she already had.

“Ethan—”

“Run. Let’s call this one a draw. Head down the stairs, to the basement, go out through the window. None of the cops will get you. This is between us men. You really want her to kill you? Go. And pray we don’t meet again.”

“Ethan!” Ivy screamed.

“Ivy, do not shoot him!” I snapped at her. “He’s mine to kill.”

And I’d already chosen how he was going to die. She had forgotten everything I said to her. Freaking useless woman.

“Watch to make sure he leaves,” I had to tell her because she didn’t have the sense to. “Lock down the house.”

“I wanted to kill him. I could have killed him.”

I don’t care about what you want, or think you could have done. You don’t have the mind for either.

“You only had one bullet.” You damn idiot!

I slid to the ground, staring at my own blood in my hands. Today really wasn’t my day. But that was fine; there would be much better days very soon.

I’m losing too much blood.

Squinting, I focused on her. I needed her to get herself together and calm down. “G…et…get Wyatt…no one else.”

Of course, she started to panic and ramble. I needed my brother and I needed Calliope And they couldn’t get in until she fucking opened the door and stepped out.

“Wife, I need you first to keep calm, go upstairs, clean up as best as you can—”

“Ethan!”

“LISTEN TO ME!” I yelled, more because I hated the way she said my name with fear, with pain. It proved she didn’t trust my plans, my vision, my mind.

I could barely hear or remember the words I was saying to her but finally the fearful, teary, child-like woman disappeared, and she got up and ran off.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, knowing she wouldn’t hear. I’d broken my promise. I’d manipulated her again. What a sad life she had. From beginning to end she was just a pawn. I closed my eyes, feeling myself drift off.

“You’re apologizing to her?”

My eyes snapped back open to find a pair of grey eyes staring back at me. She wore a scowl on her face.

“La mia anima.”

CALLIOPE - AGE 26

Boston, Massachusetts

Wednesday, September 20th





“La mia anima,” he said so happily and with such a genuine smile I couldn’t help but smile back. How he still managed to be so damn handsome while covered in blood was a mystery to me.