Page 101 of Stay Little Fighter

The sky has turned a deep pink as the sun sinks below the horizon, and for a moment, all I want in the world is to be back at the house in Maine.

I think I knew the moment we stepped foot inside that it was our home, a fresh start for all of us, but we haven’t discussed where we want our home base to be yet.

As long as we’re together and far away from Miami, I couldn’t give a shit where we live.

I find my father looking around urgently when he realizes the men he left outside are dead, and I can’t help but chuckle.

This is far more satisfying than I thought it would be.

“Did you think we’d make your escape easy?” I call out as the door slams shut behind me, making him startle.

Spineless piece of shit.

He turns slowly, fear and anger warring in his eyes. “How could you betray me like this?”

“How could you force my pregnant eighteen-year-old girlfriend to watch you torture and kill her parents with every intention of killing her?” I ask as I step forward with my gun trained on him. “How could you lie to me for ten years about what happened that night? How could you blame Kingston for Mom’s accident when it was you who ordered the hit? How could you get our family in bed with a fucking trafficking operation?”

There are a million shitty things he’s done that I could demand answers on, but just these ones make my stomach roll.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. They’re lying to you!”

“The only person that has lied to me is you. You took everything good in our lives and crushed it. You made it impossible for us to have any semblance of a life that wasn’t lived for the Lombardi name. You took everything from us.”

His panicked gaze darts around the quiet parking lot, looking for an escape that doesn’t exist. We made sure of it.

“I was trying to make a better life for you boys.”

“No, you weren’t,” I spit. “You were trying to make a better life for yourself and used us to do it.”

Movement catches my attention out of the corner of my eye, and I can’t help but smirk.

Chloe has her gun raised, her hand steady as she moves in from the other side of my father.

“I’d like to say it’s nice to see you again but I think we both know that would be a lie,” she says evenly.

Dad turns with his gun raised toward her, but that’s when he notices Enzo by her side.

“You don’t have to do this. Your father wouldn’t want this for you.”

A rough laugh tears from her, but the sadness in her eyes is evident. She never got closure, never got to properly say goodbye to the people that raised her. “My father would want me to put a bullet in your head for all the pain you’ve caused. My father wanted me to tear your operation to the fucking ground with all the evidence he compiled for me. But I think I’ll settle for you burning in hell.”

I’m endlessly proud of Chloe, but never more so than I am right now.

“It’s over, Dad,” I say calmly. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

If I’m honest, I don’t actually mind how hard he makes this. Part of me wants to keep him alive long enough to make him watch us blow up the compound and everything he’s worked for. Plus, I don’t hate the idea of Ryker getting his knives out.

But all that matters is that he stops breathing and is no longer a threat to me or my family.

“I should have fucking killed you when I had the chance,” he snarls. “You always were a little cunt, always distracting my boys when they should have been focused on the family. I knew if you two went off to college and got a taste of life together without the burden of responsibility hanging over you that you would never come back.”

“You’re just digging yourself a deeper hole, old man,” I tell him. “Anything else you want to say before you die?”

He glares at me, and before I can get the shot off, Chloe’s finger squeezes the trigger, hitting him right between the eyes. His body remains upright for long seconds and then crumples to the ground, his gun skittering across the concrete.

I rush toward her, tugging her into my arms and reveling in the feel of her against me. “I’m so fucking proud of you, Sparrow.”

“I’m sorry I killed him. I should have let you do it,” she murmurs against my chest.