Page 111 of Rescuing Aria
Confusion crosses my father’s features, as if he can’t comprehend my defiance. “You’ve been brainwashed. By him.” He gestures at Jon with the gun. “By Damien. When we’re home?—”
“I’m never going home with you,” I interrupt. “Never.”
His expression hardens, calculation replacing confusion. “Then perhaps we need to remove the distractions.” The gun shifts, aiming at Jon. “One bullet solves many problems.”
“You’ll have to shoot me first.” I step fully in front of Jon, arms spread.
My father’s eyes widen, genuine shock registering. In all his calculations, all his manipulations, he never anticipated this—his prized possession choosing to protect others rather than being protected. Choosing to stand against him rather than with him.
“Move, Aria,” he orders, voice tight with barely controlled fury. “Now.”
“No.”
The gun wavers slightly. For the first time in my life, I see uncertainty in my father’s eyes. Real uncertainty, not the calculated kind he sometimes displays in business negotiations.
“You would choose them? These—nobodies? Over your father?” Incomprehension colors his voice.
“I choose humanity,” I tell him simply. “I choose truth. I choose freedom.”
“Aria, please,” he tries again, desperation creeping into his voice. “Everything I’ve built—it’s all for you. Your legacy.”
“I don’t want it,” I say. “Not a single blood-soaked penny of it.”
His face contorts with rage. “Then you’ll die with the rest of these worthless?—”
The main doors burst open behind us. Delta team pours in, weapons trained on my father. Jenny’s at the lead, her focus absolute, her aim unwavering.
“Marcus Holbrook,” she calls, her voice carrying across the marble expanse. “Put down your weapon. You’re surrounded.”
My father’s eyes dart around, assessing the situation. Five Delta team operatives, all with weapons trained on him. Jon beside me, equally armed. No escape.
For a moment, I think he’ll surrender. Then his expression shifts to something terrible—a cold, calculated resolve that chills me to the bone.
“If I can’t have her,” he says quietly, “no one will.”
The gun swings toward me. Jon moves instantly, shoving me aside as he fires. My father’s shot goes wide, shattering a chandelier. Crystal rains down as multiple Delta team weapons discharge.
My father staggers backward, blood blooming across his chest in several places. His expression holds something I’ve never seen before—genuine surprise. As if he genuinely believed himself untouchable, immortal.
He crumples to his knees, the gun slipping from his fingers. His eyes find mine one last time, confusion and betrayal evident in their depths. Then he pitches forward, sprawling across the marble floor.
Silence falls, broken only by the tinkling of fallen crystal and the distant wail of the alarm.
I stare at his fallen form, emotion warring within me. Relief. Horror. Grief. Not for the man he was, but for the father he could have been.
Jon’s arms encircle me, turning me away from the sight. “Don’t look,” he murmurs against my hair. “It’s over.”
But it isn’t over. Not really. The revelations, the truth about my mother, about my father’s empire—those will remain. The knowledge that everything I thought I knew was built on lies and blood.
Jenny approaches, holstering her weapon. “Jon. Aria.” Her gaze shifts to the nameless girl who stands frozen beside us. “And who’s this?”
“She helped me escape,” I explain, finding my voice. “She was Wolfe’s prisoner. She needs protection.”
Jenny nods, not questioning further. “Storm, get up here,” she calls over her shoulder.
“Let’s take a look at you,” he says to the girl, who shrinks back, pressing closer to me. Storm’s manner turns gentle despite his imposing presence.
“It’s okay,” I assure her. “They’re the good guys. The real ones.”
