28. Daze

TWENTY-EIGHT

DAZE

I let a bullet fly, but not where I really want it to strike. Not in Silas' fucking heart, like he deserves—but in his knee. Regardless, he goes down hard, hissing through clenched teeth.

I tighten my grip on the pistol as a metallic taste floods my mouth. I spit on the floor without looking at the color. Could be red. Don't really care.

I'm ready to die just as long as I can take this motherfucker out first. With a howl of pain, he clutches his leg, trying to trap the blood between his fingers.

"That was always the difference between you and me," I choke out, keeping the gun trained on his chest. Then, I change my mind and aim it toward his head instead. "I could handle a bit of pain, but you always pussied out the second there was a risk of getting hurt. You throw out Rena's name, but you want to know something?" My voice deepened at the mere mention of her. I haven't revisited these memories in so damn long. There's no time like the present, though. "That's why she was afraid of you. She knew you'd stop at nothing if it meant protecting yourself. Is that why you had her heroin spiked? Go ahead and deny it."

He grunts, clutching his right leg, forced into a crouch. "You…son of a bitch?—"

"And you're a monster who sold out your own damn sister," I snarl. "You know what, Silas? The merciful thing to do would be to put a bullet in your brain, so I don't think I will. I want you to spend the rest of your life stewing in a prison cell, knowing damn well that I'm the one who put you there."

Said out loud, those words almost ring true. Almost. But when I think of him potentially getting out on parole or some shit—and hunting down Frey or Sammy—my finger begins to tighten over the trigger. Not even a heartbeat later, I feel a small hand graze my forearm as a gentle voice enters my ear.

"Daze, don't do this."

Damn. I can't even look at her. Not like this. Instead, I keep my gaze on Silas and consider how fucking good it would feel to put a bullet in between those smug fucking eyes. Even now, he's cocky as hell.

"You think this is funny?" I hit the bastard full in the face with my opposite hand. Blood flies from his mouth, but he's chuckling as he swipes it away.

"What's funny…is that you think you have all the answers, right? But you don't. You fucking idiot." He laughs louder, cocking his head to meet my gaze directly. "You still don't get it, do you? You've already lost? You think this little stunt is gonna do shit?" He looks around and flashes a bloodied grin. "You forget who owns the fucking police. Ah, speak of the devil?—"

"Daze!" Frey tugs on my arm, and I finally face her. The expression contorting that slim mouth is the last fucking thing on earth I want to see. She looks horrified. Because of me.

"I'm sorry…" I reach for her, only to stop short, when I realize my knuckles are streaked with blood. But that doesn't seem to be the source of her fear. It just keeps growing by the second. God, it's like she's staring at a stranger. Someone from a nightmare.

"Frey—"

"Daze, oh god, you're bleeding!" She takes my shoulder and tries to steer me closer to the front desk. "You need to sit down."

"I'm fine." I shrug her off without taking my eyes off Silas. The bastard is still chuckling, but he doesn't even try to stand up. Why? He isn't one to surrender lightly. He's up to something. My mind buzzes as I try to consider just what that might be. My ears are ringing. As far as pain goes, I don't feel a damn thing.

But the world sure is starting to fucking sway a hell of a lot.

"What are you planning?" I demand, raising the gun to his skull. "Tell me!"

"Police! Everyone down on the ground!"

Shit. I didn't even hear the bastards come in, but they swarm into the room, dressed head-to-toe in SWAT gear, shields and all. My only coherent thought is to step in front of Frey. I can hear her frantic breaths trickling into my ear. Seems like she's had the same grim realization I have. For all we know, these bastards are on her father's payroll.

And we're caught in the perfect trap.

And suddenly, Silas' taunts make perfect fucking sense. We haven't won. The corruption is too damn deep to ever overcome with a thwarted bombing and a hijacked news conference. I should have known better.

Oh well. "Listen to me," I say to Frey as she starts to comply with the demands shouted at us from every direction.

"ON YOUR KNEES. HANDS UP. DROP THE WEAPON."

"I'll distract them, and you run, you hear me? We can't trust anyone, not even them. Understand?"

"Daze, you're bleeding. You need a hospital?—"

"All I need…is you safe." No matter what it takes. Even if it means taking on a room of SWAT bastards.

Even if it means silencing Silas forever.

Even if it means letting her go.

I'm ready for anything.

Except for the world to go black before I can even raise the gun in my grasp.