Page 81 of Twin Deception

“And you.”

I opened my eyes as she stalked toward me, gun in hand.

“You’ve been a helpful decoy lately.” She grinned, sneering down at me. “Now that I’ve got him out of the way, I can do things the way I want. I can call all the shots. He can’t drag me down anymore, and you can be the body they claim as a hit on me.”

I shook my head. “No. No. I’m not dying for you.”

She laughed once.

“I’m not going to let you use me like that.” I narrowed my eyes, daring her to insist otherwise, this twin of mine, this stranger who thought she could just show up in my life and try to end it so she could enjoy hers. “I’ve got better purposes to serve in life than being a decoy for you!”

Laughing louder, she smiled and shook her head. “All you do is slap paint on walls,” she taunted. “No one will care if you’re gone.” She propped one hand to her hip, raising her brows as she looked down at me. “Once you’re gone, the last hit on me will no longer be an obstacle and I can carry on as I please, especiallywithout him trying to tell me what to do.” She smirked at Louis’s body in the chair. “The Cartel wants an eye for an eye, and they’ll get one. Just the wrong one.”

“You’re wrong! I have plenty of purpose. I have plenty of reasons to live. He cares. I love him, and my purpose is to grow old with him.” She didn’t care. I knew it in the coldness in her eyes, but I was stuck rambling, panting and desperate to make my case as if it could change my fate. “My purpose is to have children with him and start a family. To move away from all this danger and be happy. I can paint, and he’ll watch me. He’ll help me raise our sons and daughters and we’ll have the best life, one I never had.”

I was talking out of desperation, but halfway through my ramble, I talked louder, seeing that Miguel was stirring and getting up. I wanted her focused on me and the loudness of my voice, not noticing that he was slowly getting up.

“Oh, give me a fucking break.” Graciella lifted the gun, scowling at me. “Your pathetic life is over so I can do great things with mine. Your boring dreams will die with you, Sister.” With that final sneer as she mocked me, mocked the connection that should’ve precluded me from ever facing the end of the barrel of her gun, she raised her gun to aim it at my face.

As she did, I looked to the left, at a blank spot on the wall behind her. Feigning that someone was coming from that side, I hoped she’d fall for it.

She did.

Spinning to her left, she held her gun out and fired. She was fast, putting a hole in the wall, but Miguel was always quick. Wincing as he stood, he shot her from her right.

She staggered back a step. A loud gasp left her lips, but she didn’t let herself get stuck in shock.

By the time she raised her gun to fire at him, he was on her.

Once more, he shot her in the chest, mirroring how she’d ended our father’s life.

“Her dreams will not die,” he growled as he advanced on her. “You will.”

“Fuck you!” she screamed as she fired blindly, unable to correct her aim as blood gushed out of her.

“You will die,” he said, gravelly and gruffly, as he fired again. “You will be my last hit.”

She roared, pressing her hands to her chest. Lower and lower, she sank toward the floor.

“You will be the last person I’ll ever accept a contract to kill,” he explained, firing again and again, seeming to empty his rounds in her.

I stared, locked in shock. Violence wasn’t supposed to be a part of my life. I didn’t want to ever witness this. But in these circumstances, right now in this moment, I was compelled to witness her death and know, without a doubt, that she would never come back and expect me to sacrifice my life for hers. To know with a precise finality that she could never threaten my happiness again.

He stood over her, waiting for her to react after she crumpled to the floor. Her gun remained out of reach, and as crimson rivulets of blood leaked out of her and pooled on the floor, he nodded once and hurried to untie me.

“She’s dead?” I asked. I had to ask. I had to hear him say it.

“She’s dead.”

As he fumbled with the ties around my wrists, pulling a knife out to slice at the plastic strands, I looked over at my father, dead in the chair.

“He’s dead too,” I said, not necessarily to him but musing out loud.

Louis couldn’t put a hit on me anymore to favor my twin.

Graciella couldn’t expect me to die in her place.

No one could target me for anything at all.

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