All three of them were just staring past me at something behind my back, their faces hard and unyielding.
Right then, I heard the woman's shaking, furious voice behind me.
"My score with you will never be settled."
I spun on my heel towards her, and at the same time the tall bodyguard behind me grabbed my arms and held me in place with brutal force.
I glared at her. She was standing right in front of me, far too close, her gun aimed straight at my forehead.
Blood was running from the side of her head, covering half her face, and her eyes were locked on mine, full of rage and revenge.
I took a deep breath and, tired and annoyed, looked from the gun back to her eyes. The man's arms were locked tightly around me, holding me still.
"If you want to take revenge for that boy's death," I said, "you have to let me go so I can make my organisation pay for it. That boy wasn't the only one who died because of them."
The whites of her eyes were veined with red, and the only thing I could read in her gaze was endless hate.
Ignoring how weak she was, and how badly her head was bleeding, she kept the gun pointed at me and said in a mocking, bitter tone,
"Maybe they put the gun in your hand, but you pulled the trigger."
I held her gaze, gave a bitter little smile, and thought that this woman was only thinking about one thing: revenge on me.
Maybe if I were in her place, I'd do the same.
But from my side, I wasn't the only one guilty in all of this. I knew I deserved death—but not now, not like this, and not by her hand.
I couldn't die like this—so meaningless. I had to make them pay for the life they'd stolen from me and from the people around me.
Maybe until a little while ago, my only goal in life had been to escape the Organisation and get my freedom.
But tonight, my goal had changed. Now the only thing I wanted was to destroy the Organisation—destroy everyone who had filled my life with nightmares.
Ignoring the man's arm crushing my neck, I whispered in a rough, hoarse voice,
"Now you're the one pulling the trigger… just like I did."
With a tight, shaky grin, I growled,
"While we're here tearing each other apart and killing each other… those bastards are resting in their million-dollar houses, enjoying a peaceful weekend."
My molars were pressed so hard together my jaw ached. For a moment I saw something shift in her eyes—the same feeling I'd had myself. That tiny, passing doubt…
But it vanished quickly, swallowed again by hate and anger. She smirked, her finger moving towards the trigger. My heart stopped for a second.
I lifted my elbow, ready to drive it into the side of the man holding me so I could slip free.
But right then, a soft, muffled gunshot cracked through the room. I jerked my head up and stared at the Russian woman in disbelief.
Her wide eyes were still fixed on me as the gun slipped from her hand and dropped onto the golden velvet carpet.
A bloody hole had opened right between her brows, and blood was pouring from it.
She dropped to her knees in front of my shocked eyes, then collapsed forwards onto her stomach.
Before the bodyguards could even react, another silenced shot rang out in the hall. The two guards standing near me were hit in the head and chest and crashed to the floor, drowning the stone tiles in dark red blood.
The man holding me tightened his grip around my neck and spun us both to the side. I turned with him and stared, stunned, at the scene in front of me.
Ashur was standing there, facing us. A black mask covered half his face, and in his dark, sharp suit he looked dangerously elegant, gun in hand, staring our way.
His grey eyes shone under the chandelier light, and a cold smirk played on his lips.
He tilted his head slightly as he raised his gun towards the man.
The bodyguard pressed his gun harder to my temple and, his voice rough with rage, snarled at Ashur,
"Drop the gun, or I'll ki—"
He didn't even finish. Ashur lifted his gun and fired so fast I didn't have time to process it.
I only realised what had happened when the man's arms fell away from my neck and his body dropped behind me onto the tiles, his head slamming against the floor.
My breath was stuck in my chest. It felt like I'd fallen into a tub of ice water.
In shock, I stared at Ashur. While he changed the magazine on his gun, he walked past me with long, calm steps, not even looking my way, and went straight to the Russian woman's body. He crouched down to check her face.
I blinked and stared at her. I couldn't believe she was dead. Maybe… maybe there was still a chance for her. Maybe I could have convinced her to… to…
I stared at her blood-covered face until my own features twisted and I turned my head away.
I wanted to throw up. I wanted to puke up my whole filthy life.
Suddenly the door of the hall opened and a man in a suit walked in, spinning his gun between the wine glasses on the serving cart as he came.
Panting, I stared at him and blinked. He quickly let go of the wooden handle of the cart, raised his gun towards the bodies and then swept it around the room—then froze where he was, eyes wide.
"My entrance was supposed to be a surprise," he said. "I was supposed to burst in and shoot them all! You killed everyone already!?"
I stared at him in disbelief. What the hell was Severin doing here? He was wearing a black suit with a bow tie at the collar of his white shirt. His light caramel hair was styled up perfectly, and he had hazel lenses in.
As he walked towards us, stepping in annoyance between the corpses, he growled,
"My surprises always have to be ruined… always."