Chapter 30: Our Thing: Chapter 30

While we wait on the porch, I straighten Max’s black bow tie and try to ignore the desire building between my legs. He looks like sex and danger in his tailored charcoal vest and black shirt. Even knowing his gun is tucked into the back of his pants, hidden by his shirt, doesn’t dampen my arousal. An arousal that’s stoked by Max’s hot stare as he gazes down my body.

I’m wearing an ankle-length, body-hugging ivory gown. A wide slit runs the full length of my leg. The fabric crosses at my bust, sleeves hanging off my shoulders. I wear my hair mostly pulled up, but with a few tendrils falling around my crown and for the first time outside of the ballet, I’m wearing red lipstick. I part my lips to breathe and Max’s gaze is instantly there. I know what the menace is thinking. He’s not subtle.

Innocently, Max presses his lips to my forehead. His arms find their way around my middle and squeeze me lightly. Rubbing his nose through my hair, he finds my ear. ‘Your lips look so fuckable.’

With my heels on, I barely need to crane my neck to look at him. Fixing him with my most flirtatious gaze, I slowly trace my lips with my tongue. When his eyes drop to watch the show, I giggle. He laughs.

Yep. Nailed sexy.

Bronson appears by Max’s side in a black bowtie, white shirt, black fedora, and black suspenders. A glimpse into the intricate artwork that paints the canvas of his body is offered at his hands and neck. I giggle. His choice of attire seems satirical and reminds me of the Chopper moustache he’d been displaying the day I’d met him. He’s since replaced that look with a manicured beard.

Max rolls his eyes at his brother. Bronson snaps one of his suspenders and winks at me. ‘Sister Cassidy, you look stunning.’

‘You look stunning yourself,’ I say and when he tips his hat, I giggle again.

We watch as the limousine pulls up, but none of us take a step towards it. Instead, we wait patiently for the rest of our party.

Bronson clears his throat. ‘Did you know we were supposed to become boxers like dad?’

I shake my head, smiling.

‘But we’re just too pretty, hey Maxipad?’

Max stifles a grin and kisses my hair. Xander and Stacey are the last to join us. Xander is in a navy three-piece suit and Stacey is wearing a wine-coloured strapless gown. They’re both effortlessly elegant.

Stacey halts when she sees me. ‘Ugh. You’re so petite, Cassidy. It’s not fair. I used to be the hot one!’

‘It’s five hours a day worth of training,’ I say. ‘And I’d prefer your big boobs and curves any day.’

‘Oh, get fucked,’ she says. ‘You have curves. Your whole little shape is perfect.’

‘I’d still like bigger boobs,’ I admit.

‘Bite your tongue. Your tits are fucking perfection,’ Max growls in my ear and I giggle.

We climb into the car and it takes off, leaving the prestigious streets of Connolly as it heads towards Stormy River where the auction is hosted. I want to ask questions. Instead, I stare at the flickering lights of the city on the thirty-minute drive to the outskirts of the District.

I know a little bit about what to expect when we arrive. The diamond auction is an annual tender of Argyle Diamonds, known for its coloured and rare-to-acquire diamonds. I was gifted a white Argyle by my dad on my sweet sixteenth, but its value is pennies compared to the pink diamond I’ll be wearing for Jimmy.

As we pull up alongside a sleek black limousine, I watch several people step out wearing masquerade masks. They are dressed to the nine and buzzing with excitement.

Xander and Stacey slide on masks and step out of the car. I turn to Max questioningly and he lifts his hands, sliding a mask onto my face. I shuffle to see my reflection in the mirror. The new addiction to my outfit is ivory and lacey and covers me from my upper lip to the middle of my forehead. My lips appear even more red and my usually hazel eyes, glow almost gold in contrast to the fair colour of my mask.

I beam at Max. ‘Pretty. I like it.’

A mischievous grin tugs at his lips as his eyes scan my face. ‘No straitjacket. No muzzle. This mask. That lipstick. Your mouth. My cock.’

I grin at him. ‘Crude.’

His face softens. ‘You look fucking beautiful.’

I grin hard. ‘Sweet.’

‘And we all know I look beautiful,’ Bronson says as he opens the door and slides out of the limousine.

Words dance on my tongue. My cheeks burn at the thought of them, but watching Max’s gaze drop to my lips again gives me the courage to speak. ‘Stick your tongue out. I’ll give you a preview.’

The grey in his eyes darkens as he sticks his tongue out. I take his tongue into my mouth and suck on it. He fists my hair hard, his grip biting at my scalp. Groaning into me, he reaches for my hand and presses my palm to his erection. His hips buck. My heart pummels inside my chest.

He pulls his tongue out abruptly and nips my lip. ‘Naughty girl! I have to go out there and as you once pointed out, I’m not easy to hide.’

I breathe hard and lick the taste of him from my lips. ‘Sorry.’

He reaches down to adjust himself, his eyes never leaving mine. My hand finds his thigh before he can exit the car.

‘Max. Why the masks?’

‘These people like anonymity.’

I laugh nervously. ‘But they don’t hide anything. You’d still recognise me.’

‘It’s something Jimmy started doing. It offers a sense of privacy and it’s infinitely harder to identify a person in a photo with a mask on.’

My mouth and throat get really dry. I decide to just nod in lieu of asking any more questions. Gazing through the tinted windows at the gallery, I watch as gowned ladies and tuxedoed men stroll leisurely up the steps and through the arch. Privilege drips from them in the form of clothes, jewellery, and attitude.

‘You trust me, right?’ Max asks.

I tear my eyes away from them to look back at him. ‘Only with my heart.’

His eyes soften as he squeezes my hand. ‘And I’m gonna take care of it. Just be the good girl I know you are. The one that read me yesterday when I told Jimmy you were busy. I don’t give you enough credit sometimes, little one, and I should. You read my play. Just do the same in there. And remember, I’m working tonight. I might have to leave you every now and then, but in that dress, I can assure you, I’ll have my eyes on you. Nothing should go wrong. We aren’t expecting any surprises.’

He lifts my mask and kisses me softly. His tongue skates over my lips, tasting me. I moan and he breaks our kiss, sliding the mask down again and ushering me from the car.

‘Wait, aren’t you wearing a mask?’

‘No,’ he says, entwining our fingers. ‘I’m six foot four and everyone knows me. It’s pretty hard for me to go incognito.’

He tries to tug me from the car again, but I pull my hand from his.

‘Wait,’ I plea.

He stills.

‘Little one, I can see you’re stalling. It’s going to be okay. You might even have fun tonight.’

I sigh and draw courage from his attentive grey eyes. ‘Okay.’

We step onto the red carpet where Bronson waits for us. The whole frontage is lit up, lights shimmering in the dresses and heels that pass me by. I understand the appeal of the mask now that I’m wearing one. Just like a pair of sunglasses seem to hide emotions – eyes shifting, pupils dilating – a person’s tells, the mask hides expressions – weaved brows, blushing cheeks. The mask allows me to observe the other guests inconspicuously.

Bronson and Max flank me, both boys tall and powerful and standing so close that I can smell them. Even though the mood between the three of us is light, their positions warn me to exercise caution.

We are pat down at the door. The guard touches Max’s gun, but ignores it. The female guard frisks me gently, barely touching me. With the slightest hesitation, I enter the bright gallery.

The space is wondrous. It’s white on white. Glass. Shiny. Men in suits with earpieces stand staunchly in every corner. Stunning girls walk elegantly around, almost untouchable in their perfection and yet, they display product on their being, beckoning guests to approach. Necklaces. Earrings. Rings. Bracelets.

The overhead lights are absorbed by the facets in the diamonds, making them flicker with additional colours. Colours not found in the diamond without the addition of light.

A lady in a suit approaches us with a silver tray. I expect to be handed some liquid courage, but instead I’m staring down at a thin softly looped white gold chain holding a delicate deep-pink solitaire diamond.

‘This is yours for the night, Cassidy,’ the lady says. I hold my breath as she picks the necklace up and moves behind me. Max’s fingers slip from mine, the absence of him seeping deep into my bones. She touches my shoulder with her wrist as she places the piece around my neck. I stand very still even though about twenty sets of eyes have fallen to my décolletage. I desperately try to steady my pulse, but it’s an attempt to no avail. My breathing becomes laborious and my mouth parts. I dare not touch the necklace. It feels heavy even though it’s near weightless.

‘That’s about $150k you’re wearing around your neck,’ Max whispers in my ear.

I gasp.

I can’t help it. I stroke the small hard piece situated in the divot between my collarbones.

Max gently lowers my hand. ‘Try to relax, little one.’ I watch as the same serving girl approaches Stacey and fits her with a bracelet and earrings. I find Bronson only a few metres away from us, watching casually and yet with intent.

Swallowing hard, I mutter, ‘It appears we’re all working tonight.’

‘Let’s get a drink.’ He touches my waist. ‘All Jimmy wants is for you to wear it.’

He says that, but Stacey’s warning rings in my ears.

‘You’re an asset. Leverage. This is what they do. It’s the long game. It doesn’t look that bad at first, which is how you miss it. It’s a favour. It’s a kindness. It’s a sponsorship. But then they have claws in every part of your life and one day, you sit up and wonder how you’d gotten in so deep. . .’

We’re both being used as a living, breathing showcase for the Family’s product. I wasn’t asked. I wonder if she was. It’s harmless. . . At least, our roles are harmless.

Max and I approach the bar. As he orders for us, my attention is drawn to the guests as they enjoy small talk and observe the beautiful jewellery in display cases and on individuals.

‘Cassidy, what’s that look on your face mean?’ Max leans casually on the bar beside me. He motions towards the glass of champagne sitting idly in front of me. I stare at Stacey. She’s being mauled by people inspecting her wrists and ears. Xander stands not too far away, guarding her. ‘Cassidy?’ I’m drawn back to the serious eyes of the beautiful man I love. ‘If you wanna go, we’ll just go. I don’t give a shit if Jimmy gets pissed.’

‘No. I’m fine.’ I grab the champagne and drink it enthusiastically.

A tall, slim lady with a red mask on approaches me. Her eyes drop to the diamond around my neck. ‘May I?’

I nod.

She reaches up and runs her fingers across the diamond, her nails lightly scraping my skin. ‘Beautiful,’ she whispers. More people approach. Some appear dazzled. Others methodical, all business. A few women have phones clutched to their ears, describing the piece to someone on the other end of the line. I wonder who they are conversing with. Probably some prince from Arabia or the Queen of England. Probably a politician. Max’s hand rests reassuringly on my back.

Everyone’s attention is suddenly directed to the canapés now circulating. I drain another glass of champagne and notice that Butch and an irked looking Victoria are standing in the far corner. Her eyes scrutinise everyone unabashedly. Her red lips slice a straight line across her face. Her gaze lands on me and that slice twitches.

There was a time when I’d thought she was undeniably beautiful. But I see her for what she is now – empty. All she has is Chanel and Gucci. Well, Max has me. I turn my back on her and place my hand on Max’s neck. I kiss his lips softly and with so much gentle love and intent.

He gazes down at me, a gentleness in his eyes only reserved for mine. ‘You okay?’

‘Can I look around?’ I ask, staring at the display cabinets.

‘Of course,’ Max says, studying me as I move away to explore.

That second glass of champagne has helped me relax. I’m not sure why I was feeling uneasy. Perhaps I should feel honoured to be such an important part of such a prestigious event.

That’s what the champagne tells me.

I wander around the room and lean over the cabinets, taking in the colours and beauty.

‘Open your mouth, little one.’ I spin to face Max, my cheeks hot with surprise.

He laughs and holds up a small tart. I do as I’m told, opening my mouth so he can plop the morsel in. I hum as the flavour bursts around my tongue. He smiles at me and I smile at him and my nerves have definitely settled.

My eyes are suddenly fixed on a little anklet with a ballet shoe pendant. The charm is completely encrusted with pink diamonds. ‘Oh my God. It’s beautiful.’

He swirls the liquid in his glass. ‘You got about $70k?’

My jaw drops. ‘Oh my gawd! How?’

‘It’s not the carat that matters with pinks. It’s the colour and the clarity.’

‘Jebus,’ I say under my breath.

He chuckles. ‘Did you just say Jebus?’

‘It’s off the Simpsons.’ Oh my God, shut up, Cassidy. ‘Save me Jebus. No?’

He sighs long and slow, but his eyes smile at me, taking me all in. It’s a nice look on him, full of emotion. He likes that I’m not cool. I have no idea why.

My breath catches when I see Dustin and Jimmy approaching us, their eyes all over me. My hands start to shake at my sides. I thought I had overcome this feeling. I thought I would be okay if I saw him again. Indifferent, but not scared. Not angry. I narrow my eyes at Dustin, making him smile, triumph in his mannerisms.

‘That’s the one. Diamante rosa,’ he coos, caressing my neck with his eyes. He reaches for me and I step backwards, hitting Max’s hard body. Max strokes my hip.

‘It must be your ugly face, Dustin, that she does not like.’ Jimmy laughs loudly. He says something to Dustin in Sicilian and then claps his hands. ‘Thank you, Cassidy, for wearing my diamond. You look royal tonight.’

‘Fragile,’ Dustin quips with a smirk. ‘Perfect for the diamond.’

Glass is fragile. It also cuts.

I bite the inside of my lip so hard before forcing a smile. ‘You’re very welcome, Jimmy. It’s beautiful.’

My will is to keep a straight face and to not glance at Max for support. I can feel him. That should be enough. Bronson appears in the corner of my eye, stepping behind me. Dustin stares over my shoulder at Max and then Bronson. Amusement flickers across his face. There is tension, thick and threatening. I steel my spine, but my heart beats hard in my chest, dizzying me.

Jimmy’s smile widens. ‘Ah, my Butcher boys. I’m going to need both of you to follow me into the other room. We have a few things to take care of. Affari me.‘

Max’s hand tightens on my hip, his fingers digging in. ‘What about the diamond?’

I wince and he relaxes his grip. ‘I need to go to the restroom anyway,’ I manage to say, my voice somehow not shaking.

Jimmy raises his hand, clicking his fingers to signal one of the guards. Approaching quickly, the guard is tailed by another suited lady who holds an empty silver tray. Before she can reach around and remove the diamond from my neck, I unclip it myself and place the piece on her tray. I don’t look at Max as I excuse myself, slowly walking towards the bathrooms.

Once inside I grip the basin and stare at my reflection. ‘What are you doing?’ I whisper to myself. ‘Why are you even here? This isn’t your scene.’

My scene is lounging around in my pyjamas, eating pizza and listening to jazz or playing PlayStation or reading. It definitely isn’t elaborate galas filled with passive-aggressive chitchat.

I hate Dustin.

I hate Victoria.

I don’t know how I feel about Jimmy, although, I’m liking him less and less the more I see the strings he holds. Max’s strings. Bronson’s strings.

Mine?

Everything Stacey had warned me about swims in my mind. My stomach rolls, a thick mixture of unease and champagne curdled together. Bile moves into my throat and I throw myself over a toilet to vomit.

After cleaning myself up, I gather my purse. I’ll tell Max I’m not well and hopefully we can retire early.

When I re-enter the main gallery room, Xander’s eyes are glued on me. Before I can wander over to him, Dustin blocks my path. ‘Cassidy, let’s see that diamond back around your neck.’

Shuddering at the way he articulates the word neck, I shake my head. ‘I need to get some air. Where’s Max?’

‘Not feeling well again.’ He takes one long step towards me before cupping his hands in front him. ‘You should really get that checked out.’

He gazes at the column of my neck. His eyes are dark-brown voids that scratch at my skin and leave goosebumps in their wake. The champagne is currently doing nothing to aid in calming my nerves.

Max had promised me that I would never have to talk to this man alone. ‘Where’s Max?’ I say again.

He nods in the direction of a door. ‘Still with Jimmy. They might be a while.’

Xander appears at my side, smiling tightly at Dustin. ‘Everything okay?’

‘Yeah,’ I say, my voice definitely shaking now. ‘I just feel a bit strange. I think I’m coming down with something.’

‘Alright.’ Dustin’s hand touches my waist and it takes everything inside me not to slap it away. He walks me a few steps towards a corridor and points down a long run of doors. I stare back at Xander, his eyes still trained on me. ‘Go to the end. There’s a little courtyard out there.’

Xander joins us by the corridor. ‘I’ll go with her.’

Dustin tsks. ‘And leave Stacey unattended?’

‘Stacey has three guards in this room, Dustin.’ Xander almost barks the words, and his tone makes Dustin straighten.

Then Dustin relaxes.

It’s chilling. His stance. Like the quiet of the sea at night. You know that there are monsters beneath its dark depths, but all you can see is still, glassy, blackness. ‘Are you still talking, little Butcher?’ he finally says, his voice smooth.

Around the room, several guards watch our exchange closely. Xander clenches his fists on either side of his body as he acknowledges them with a nod. It’s not clear where their loyalties lie. With Jimmy, I suppose.

‘It’s fine,’ I say to Xander, honestly just eager to get away at this point. I reach for Xander’s arm, stroking the tense muscles beneath. ‘I’ll just be outside.’ Walking away from both of them, I head straight down the corridor, passing five doors as I do. It’s well lit. My stomach rolls again, so I clutch at it, wincing slightly. At the end of the corridor, I push the door open and the fresh air greets me. A crisp wisp of air fills my lungs. . . and then something else. Something smoky. The atmosphere is not quite right.

The door behind me closes on its own. A shadow in the corner moves.

‘Ah, thank you, God! This is a sign,’ I hear someone say.

Squinting as the shadow moves towards me, a face is gradually revealed. Erik. He’s smoking something that is definitely not tobacco. The herbal remedy wraps him in thick, pungent smoke.

‘Stay away from me,’ I say as I turn for the door handle, only to find it has locked behind me. Erik is quickly beside me, pressing his fist to the door. Tugging on the doorknob, a shaky breath expels my mouth. I spin to scowl at him, my lips curled up in disgust. My eyes well, but I wrestle with them so they don’t expel tears like rain. But they want to.

His gaze shifts around my face before fixing on a single tear as it slides down my cheek. ‘We got interrupted last time I found you. This is a little gift from God. He owes me.’

I narrow my eyes with defiance.

He grins. ‘Did you get my messages?’

Oh God.

My throat tightens, but I manage to say, ‘Are you crazy? Max is going to kill you.’

He laughs and the hysteria in it chills me to my core. ‘Max is going to kill me?’ he mocks. ‘Do you think I care if I die? This is all I want. This is all I asked for. Revenge. It’s the only item on my bucket list. Dustin wants my revenge as well, ya know?’ He leans in, his eyes wild. Crazed. ‘He doesn’t like your brother either.’

A whimper escapes me without my permission. His hand slides up the slit of my dress and I tense, willing myself not to break down as I begin to vibrate with fear against the door. My eyes drop to his hand as I feel two fingers push against the thin fabric between my legs.

Where are my hands? What are they doing?

Push him away!

My head screams Max’s name.

Max!

But my lips do nothing but draw in air.

‘I have no life. I have no interest in living like this. . . with this face,’ he hisses.

My teeth tighten as I stare at his disfigured face. I will myself to hold my own. Don’t break down. His cruel brown eyes crinkle in the corners at my attempt to stay strong. He chuckles a little, which causes another tear to fall from my eye.

As he talks, he leans in until his lips are pressed to my wet cheek. ‘I want to take something from him. He took Blesk from me. She was mine first. The only girl I’ve ever loved. I didn’t even know that he had a sister until I saw you in The District News. So pretty as well. Such was my luck that day. And now this day. Of course, I hadn’t realised that Max Butcher had already put his cock inside you. That was a bit of a disappointment.’

It’s hard to breathe as he presses his forearm into my neck, pinning me, near airless, against the door. His other hand – oh God. It begins to rub me through my knickers. I squeeze my eyes shut, pleading with my body not to respond, not to betray me. Although I’m frozen, my heart is riotous in my ears. I imagine fighting back. I imagine slapping him. Frozen by fear, my body isn’t responding to my demands. To move. To fight. To scream.

‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill you. I just want to fuck his sister like he’s fucking mine.’ His hot smoky breath slithers down my neck as he slides his fingers under my knickers and inside me. ‘Women were created to be so weak. Small. Fragile. And with this little part of your body, men can control you. Max controls you with it too. Doesn’t he? We literally enter you. Like the devil himself. We enter you.’

As Erik moves his fingers inside me, my teeth fix tight, but my throat groaning my discomfort.

He chuckles at me. ‘Does that feel good?’

My mind shifts to a different place. And now I see Blesk. I hear her words about mind games. This is her brother. A driver. He’s not nearly as powerful as my boyfriend. Or his family. My eyes narrow on him. ‘You could never make me feel good!’

As laughter erupts from him, my hands flex at my sides, reminding me that they are there. In an instant my fingers meet the crevassed plane of his face, my nails dig in hard, splitting skin and drawing blood.

Growling, Erik grabs my wrists and throws me forward onto my knees. ‘You cunt!’

‘Max!’ I scream, stumbling to my feet just as Erik lunges for me. He fists my hair, my scalp burning as he drags me across the alfresco. My elbows go up to protect my face as he throws me headfirst through a glass table. Shards scatter in the air and drive into my skin. Blood drips down the length of my forearms and onto the floor. With fingers knotted in my hair, he drags me across the ground and drops down on top of me.

‘Feisty little bitch. I was just going to fuck you, but now I think I’ll cut that pretty little face up.’

Oh God!

I gyrate beneath him, flailing my limbs and body, trying to buck him off. His weight compresses my chest, but my knee meets his groin and he keels over onto his back, grasping at his balls. Before I can get to my feet, fingers enclose my ankle, yanking me backwards. A big shard of glass in my forearm digs in deeper as I’m dragged under him.

I claw at the pavement. ‘Max!’

He grunts with exertion as he slams me onto my back. He rears up and drops his fist into my face, the blunt force of his knuckles blackening the world around me. I let out long, deep groans as I roll around, disorientated.

Squinting up at him, I try to focus on the blood splatter on his jagged face. Try to pull myself out of the haze that has settled around me. Try to ignore his hands. He starts to touch me. The breath on my cheeks is hot, musky and makes my head spin. He’s suddenly squeezing my breasts so hard that pain shoots under my arms and around the back of my shoulders.

When I regain my sight, nasty bloodshot brown eyes scowl at me. I feel the shard in my forearm shuffle between gashed skin.

Glass is fragile. It also cuts.

I reach for it, pull it out with a long throaty cry and thrust it into the side of Erik’s neck, pushing it through the soft, mushy flesh.

Those cruel eyes widen.

Instantly, blood begins to pour from the incision. I kick him off, straining for breath, and scamper on my knees to the door. When I reach the door and he still hasn’t come after me, I turn to watch as he rolls onto his back. Blood splutters as guttural sounds escape him.

Pressing my back to the wall, I watch him choke on his own blood. The piece of glass in his throat moves as he swallows and groans. Fearful glossy brown eyes stare at me.

I’m not shaking anymore. My body is perfectly still. A little cold, perhaps. My breathing is deep, steady, and precise.

The door beside me opens and Max strides out, his back to me for a moment.

Then he turns.

Narrowed grey eyes wrap themselves around me. Bronson and the scarred guard I’d seen at the wedding are beside Max in an instant. Their eyes fall to me on the floor, taking in the blood and glass. Xander bursts through the door next.

Completely ignoring Erik gargling on his own blood a few metres from my outstretched feet, the Butcher brothers drop to my side. One of them immediately wraps the wound on my forearm with something soft; a piece of fabric – a tie, I think. Big warm palms cup my cold wet cheeks. Max searches my expression. Dropping his eyes, he studies each cut, scratch, and gash on my body as if creating a record in his mind. The stormy grey rings around his pupils thin to near nothing.

‘She’s in shock,’ Bronson murmurs, his voice soft, chilling. The voice of Mr Hyde to his Jekyll. So unlike the man I know. He gently strokes my hair.

Xander’s eyes are frozen open. ‘I’m so sorry, Cassidy! Max, I’m so sorry.’

I watch Max’s face contort. Snap.

Break.

He jumps to his feet, swiftly and deadly. Pulling his gun out from the back of his pants, he points the muzzle between Erik’s eyes.

‘Stop,’ I say as I try to climb to my feet.

And to my absolute disbelief. . . Max does.

Bronson helps me stand. My legs are weak and sore, having been twisted and hauled around. Xander stands like a statue – stone cold. The other man merely steps back inside the corridor and closes the door behind him.

Max lowers the black pistol to his side as I approach him. While I stare at his profile, he doesn’t seem able to break his pointed watch of Erik – or maybe he just can’t look at me. . .

His eyes glisten in the low light of the courtyard. Something is very wrong in his dark mien. . . irredeemable pain. Unimaginable rage.

My gaze bounces from the lethal look in my lover’s eyes to the look of fear in Erik’s. Briefly, Erik looks relieved to see me standing over him. Doesn’t he know he’s going to die? I told him as much a few minutes ago and now his blood is pooling around his neck so deep it appears near black.

Max grabs the barrel of the gun and offers me the black handle to take.

‘Max, no,’ Xander begs. ‘She shouldn’t-‘

‘Hush, Xander,’ Bronson orders.

I blink at the gun for a moment. . . And then my fingers enclose the cool, hard piece with little more thought.

‘Both hands,’ Max states, his voice toneless – almost disembodied.

Clenching my jaw, I grip it in both hands. It’s not nearly as heavy as I’d originally envisioned. Should I feel remorse right now? Or is this just another contradictory piece of myself being discovered. A piece that’s sick of people underestimating me. Sick of people calling me weak and fragile. A piece so very sick of people fucking with my family! I lift the gun, stare at the whites of Erik’s eyes and pull the trigger.

I feel the power in the piece as it unloads. Like a pulse within my palms. The bang should be loud, but I’m not sure I can hear properly. A kind of fog has settled in my mind and it’s as if my feelings have been cauterised to the point they no longer exist. It’s like confusion, but without the loss of information. I understand everything happening, but my response isn’t natural – isn’t Cassidy.

I pull the trigger again. Before I can pull it a third time, Max wraps his hand around the barrel and takes the gun off me.

Erik isn’t choking on his own blood anymore.