Page 49 of Unmasked Prophecy

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The blood drains from my face as his words hit, each one a jagged, cruel reminder. My hand grips the gun tighter, and I back away, more than willing to kill him if I need to. They’re not keeping me here. I won’t stay. I’d rather die. My father stands firm, his voice a calm, unyielding command. “Put the gun down, Nia.”

Cyrus has already turned, disappearing, and I know my father has ordered him to. I aim the gun at the man who brought me into this world, my voice frantic. “Stay back! I’ll do it. I’ll shoot you.”

My father doesn’t flinch. “You can shoot me, Nia, but it won’t stop what is going to happen. Not even you can control His wishes.”

No.

This can’t be happening.

“I’m not pregnant,” I hiss, my finger trembling against the trigger.

“We’ll find out for certain. I can assure you.”

I’ve made a mistake.

A huge mistake.

Cyrus returns, and with him, he has at least twenty men, all ready to fight. They might not carry weapons, but there are too many of them to shoot. One way or another, someone will get this gun off me. Not easily, though. I keep it pointed at my father.

“I’ll fucking kill you. Do not doubt it.”

“I’m not afraid of death, daughter.”

I’m going to be sick again. The hot vomit is rising in my throat.

“Back down. I’ll start killing everyone you love.”

My father remains calm, unbothered. “Even if you do, you can’t shoot us all. We’ll take you down. One way or another, you’re finished. Release it. Now.”

I feel the world spinning, my mind a tangled mess of fear and rage. “The club will come for me. You know they will. You can’t stop them.”

He takes a step closer, his eyes fixed on me with a terrifying certainty. “The club is no longer my concern. You’re carrying the child. You’re not going anywhere.”

“You need me, without me you will never take them down and they will never stop.”

“I’ll find a way, don’t doubt it. For now, this is more important. My grandchild is the most important.”

The words are a death sentence, and my heart races, wild and uncontrollable. The men rush me without warning, and I scream, the sound ripping from my throat as the gun goes off just before someone slams my body to the ground. The gun skids from my hand, and I watch it slide away, out of reach, out of hope.

“Let me go!” I scream, thrashing as they pin me down, my voice raw and desperate. “No.”

My father’s voice cuts through the chaos, calm and composed, the others holding me with iron grips. “Welcome home, daughter.”

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