Chapter 175 *
Lorenzo’s POV
I raised my gun. If I was going down, I'd take at least one more of these bastards with me.
My last thought before the bullets came was simple and sharp.
I'm sorry, Scarlett. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you.
Three gunshots rang out.
But they didn't come from the killers.
They came from behind me.
I froze. My brain couldn't process what was happening.
Three of the men dropped. The leader's head snapped back. A perfect hole appeared in his forehead. He was dead before he hit the ground.
The right flanker grabbed his chest. Blood spread across his white shirt. He collapsed face-first into the dirt.
The left flanker clutched his throat. Blood poured between his fingers. He made a horrible gurgling sound and fell.
I stood there like an idiot. My gun still raised. My mouth hanging open.
What the fuck just happened?
I turned around slowly.
Scarlett was standing behind me. Both hands wrapped around a pistol. Smoke curled from the barrel.
Her stance was perfect. Feet shoulder-width apart. Weight balanced. Arms extended. Professional shooter's grip.
The gun in her hands wasn't some cheap piece of shit. It was a custom piece. Suppressor attached. The kind of hardware that cost serious money.
Where did she get that?
My brain was screaming questions but my mouth couldn't form words.
The three remaining killers recovered from their shock. They spun toward Scarlett. Their weapons came up.
She moved before I could shout a warning.
Her body shifted sideways. She used the tree trunk as cover. Her gun tracked across her targets with mechanical precision.
Two more shots. Both suppressed. They made soft phut sounds instead of cracks.
The fourth man's head jerked. The bullet entered right between his eyes. He dropped like his strings had been cut.
The fifth man grabbed his chest. He took two stumbling steps and fell.
The last killer was panicking now. His hands shook. The gun in his grip wobbled.
Scarlett's pistol pointed at his face. The distance between them was maybe ten feet.
"Put it down." Her voice was completely flat. No emotion. No fear. Just cold command.
The killer dropped his weapon. His hands shot up. "Please. Please don't. We're just contractors. We didn't know who you were."
"Who hired you?"
"Miranda. Miranda Kestrel. She said it was just family business. A simple hit. We didn't know—"
Scarlett pulled the trigger.
The man's head snapped back. He crumpled to the ground.
Silence fell over the mountainside.
Six bodies. Seven bullets. One magazine.
The entire fight had lasted maybe fifteen seconds.
I stood there. My gun was still in my hand but I'd forgotten I was holding it.
Scarlett moved through the bodies. Her steps were controlled. She checked each one. Made sure they were dead.
Then she ejected her magazine. Pulled a fresh one from somewhere inside her jacket. Slammed it home with a practiced motion.
She turned and walked toward me.
Her face showed nothing. She looked like someone who'd done this a thousand times before.
"We need to move." Her voice was calm. "More could be coming."
I couldn't speak. Just stared at this stranger wearing my sister's face.
"Lorenzo." She stepped closer. "We need to go. Now."
I couldn't speak. Couldn't process what I'd just seen. My sister had dropped six trained killers in under fifteen seconds. Professional shooters. The kind of men who made people disappear without a trace.
And she'd killed them like it was nothing.
I forced my legs to move. My body felt like it belonged to someone else. My hands were shaking. My mouth was dry. But I followed her down the slope.
My brain kept trying to reconcile what I'd just witnessed with the girl I thought I knew.
The scared twenty-two-year-old who'd shown up at our door six months ago. The quiet one who kept her head down at family dinners. The one we'd all thought was weak.
That wasn't who just saved my life.
"Scarlett... what the fuck just—" My voice came out rough. Shaking.
I couldn't finish the sentence. Didn't know how to finish it.
She didn't look back. Just kept walking toward the black SUV the killers had arrived in.
"They're dead." Her tone was matter-of-fact. "I killed them."
The casualness of it hit me like a punch to the gut.
A weird thought popped into my head. Completely random. Completely insane.
I remembered last year. Graham and Scarlett had gotten into it at the estate. Some stupid argument about Zelda that had turned physical.
Graham had come out of it with a black eye and a split lip. He'd been furious. Embarrassed that our "weak" sister had landed a few good hits.
But he'd been alive. Walking. Talking.
Holy shit.
Graham was alive because she'd let him live.
She could've killed him anytime she wanted. Could've ended him in that hallway. And none of us would've known until it was too late.
The realization made my stomach turn.
I opened my mouth. Wanted to ask her. Needed to understand what the fuck was happening.
But she held up one hand. Didn't even turn around.
The gesture was clear. Don't ask.
I shut my mouth. Swallowed my questions.
We reached the SUV. Scarlett circled it once. Checking for explosives or tracking devices, probably. She moved like someone who'd done this before.
Then she turned and looked at me directly. "You knew these guys were coming for you?"