Page 54 of Sinful Empire (Mount Trilogy 3)
I pulled the trigger on my .45 before he could finish his sentence, and he screamed as the revolver fell from the dangling, mangled appendage that used to be his hand. The gun landed on the floor and discharged. Fucking hell. That shouldn’t be possible.
“You fuckin’ shot me!” He waved around the remains of his hand as blood spurted wildly, and then his gaze dropped to the floor. “And her!”
My heart, the black hunk of coal in my chest, stopped beating for a second.
“What?”
I dashed around the counter and found Hope’s prone body on the linoleum, curled up in a defensive position like he’d been kicking the shit out of her. Shattered glass from the plates covered the floor, and blood dripped from little cuts on her arms and legs. But that wasn’t all.
Destiny charged into the house, a baseball bat in her hands. A fucking Louisville Slugger. It wasn’t the same one I’d used, but it was still all too similar to my first murder weapon.
“Don’t let him hurt her again!” she screamed from the doorway, ready to come to her older sister’s defense.
I didn’t know if my presence gave her the courage, or if she’d had to do this before. The word again slammed into my brain as my gaze locked on the massive hole in Hope’s chest, and her blood-soaked hair where it looked like he’d pistol-whipped her. Both wounds oozed puddles around her body. Her chest didn’t move.
“You fucked with the wrong women, asshole.”
I fired, blowing off most of his other hand, and Destiny sprinted for the kitchen. I caught her around the waist, trying to stop her from seeing what I saw.
Her sister’s dead body.
There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that Hope was gone.
The only thing I didn’t know was who killed her—the piece of shit writhing on the floor next to her, two pulpy stumps at the ends of his arms, or me because I shot the pistol out of his hand.
The possibility twisted my stomach.
I’m so fucking sorry, Hope.
My attention split, I underestimated how flexible Destiny was and she slipped out of my arms.
“No, Desi!” I grabbed her just as her bare foot landed on a shard of glass. I scooped her up into my arms and turned her face against my chest.
“Let me go!”
“No. You don’t need to see that.”
“But Hope—”
“Hope is dead, Desi. I’m so fucking sorry.” My voice was hoarse with more emotion than it had held in years.
“No!” She screamed as I carried her out of the house, her tears soaking my shirt. The screams turned into heartbreaking sobs. “Please. No. No. No.”
Destiny was all but limp when I got to the car. When I sat her down in the front seat, she sprang into action again, clawing me, trying to get back to the house and Hope.
I gripped her skinny shoulders and shook her to get her attention. “You’re not going back in there. Understand me?”
“Mikey—”
“Mount,” I said, correcting her out of habit because she couldn’t seem to forget the past. Well, fuck, neither of us were going to forget today.
“Hope . . .”
I met Destiny’s tear-filled gaze. “Pull it together, Desi. Right now. Hope is gone.”
“She can’t be dead.” Destiny’s voice was filled with such heartbreak, what was left of my own heart cracked along with it. She sniffled and wrapped both arms around her legs, curling up into a ball in the front seat, rocking back and forth.
“I’m so fucking sorry, but she is. You’re not, though, and we’re getting you the hell out of here. I’m gonna take care of you, just like I always have, Desi. You understand me?”
