“Sorry,” Matt mumbled. “I was just trying to—”
“Dylan! No!” Ainsley shouted, her voice echoing through the halls. The crack of a gunshot rang out. I smiled as I heard a thud.
A body had fallen to the floor.
His body.
I stepped out of my hiding place, taking in the scene: Matt was slumped in the corner against the wall; Adele was on the stairs, her eyes wide with the horror of what had happened; Ainsley stood in the center of the room, a hand over her agape mouth; Dylan was pale-faced and quivering, the gun dangling in his hand at his side.
“What did you do?” Ainsley asked in horror, crossing the room to examine Matt.
“I’m sorry… I had to…” He couldn’t seem to form words. It was time for me to interject.
“Attaboy,” I said, approaching him from behind and placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Peter?” Ainsley stood, her back slamming into the wall. She shot a glance at Dylan, then leered at me. “You did this? You…you had him kill an innocent person? Why? Why would you do this? To get back at me?”
“Of course, he didn’t,” Adele argued, looking at me with disbelief. “Tell her you didn’t, Peter.”
“He’s hardly innocent,” I said, gesturing toward her face. “You can give up the act. I told him everything. He knows Matt’s the one who did that to you.”
“You’re…you’re insane. Delusion—”
At her feet, Matt groaned, his body shuddering as he released an exasperated breath.
“He’s not dead.” Ainsley fell to the ground, a hand over the wound on his shoulder.
“You know what you have to do,” I told Dylan, lowering my mouth to his ear.
“Dylan, sweetheart, don’t listen to him. Just…bring the gun to me,” Ainsley urged. “Please. Please, son. Bring it to me. You’re confused. You don’t want to hurt anyone. I know that.”
“He’s protecting you, Ainsley,” I argued. “Stop lying.”
“Dad, I’m scared—” His voice quivered.
“Sweetheart, please,” Ainsley begged, one hand on Matt’s shoulder and the other—bloody and shaking—outstretched for Dylan. “Please come to me.”
“You have to do it, Dylan. You have to kill him. It’s the only way she’ll ever be safe. It’s the only way she’ll ever stay with us.”
“What is he talking about, Ainsley?” Adele asked.
“Is that what this is about?” Ainsley shouted, a new sort of rage filling her. Her face was pink, her entire body pulsing with electricity as she moved toward me in a flash. “You’ve turned our son into a murderer to punish me?”
I spun, using Dylan as a shield between us. “If she tries to hurt us, you’ll have to kill her, too.”
“What?” Dylan was crying then—his face coated in snot and tears.
“Don’t listen to him, Dylan. He’s a bad man. Your father is a bad, bad man. He’s a murderer. I’ve tried so hard to protect you kids from all that he’s done, and now he wants you to kill me, too. Matt is innocent.” She lowered her face to meet his eyes. “Do you hear me?”
“Don’t listen to her,” I warned him.
“Matt did nothing wrong. He is a friend. A friend who has been really kind to me. These marks on my face, your father made those. Not Matt. Your father has been working behind my back with your grandmother, trying to set this all up.”
“Ainsley, I didn’t know!” Adele cried.
Ainsley didn’t budge, staring only at me. “I should’ve known she was the one telling you how to find me.”
“She wants us to be together,” I said simply. “She knows how good I am for you.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, stop this, both of you,” Adele cried, fanning herself as if she were going to pass out.
Ainsley looked down at the blood on her hands, scoffing and taking a step forward. “How good you are for me, Peter? Really?”
“Ainsley, we are good together. Your parents want us to be together. The kids want us to be together.”
“The kids don’t know the truth about you—”
“Or you—” I warned. Two could play that game.
Ainsley turned her focus back to our son. “Dylan, please, baby. Please give me the gun.”
“If you give it to her, she’ll shoot us both. She’d do anything to save him.”