Seven years ago, Tristan Knight walked away from the love of his life, Serenity Harris, without a word or a backwards glance. No goodbye. No Dear John letter. No words of apologies or excuses. She'd woken up one morning to an empty bed, her body sor...
اوووه! هذه الصورة لا تتبع إرشادات المحتوى الخاصة بنا. لمتابعة النشر، يرجى إزالتها أو تحميل صورة أخرى.
Pull the trigger... Pull the fuckin' trigger...
Tristan's hand tightened on the gun as his eyes focused on his intended target: the back of Nyle's head. He had a clear shot too. All he had to do was pull the trigger one time... And it would all be over.
Beads of sweat lit up the side of head. He could hear himself breathing. Adrenaline raced through him like a rocket. His hand trembled slightly and he grabbed the side of the gun with his free hand, trying in vain to steady himself. His teeth were clenched together and grinding so hard, he feared they'd pop and shatter in his mouth. He had to remain calm. If he misfired the wrong person could be killed. Even worse, Serenity might get hit. He couldn't let that happen. He'd turn the gun on himself if he injured her in any way.
This was the only way. It was the only way to keep her from marrying him; to keep her his forever. Nyle didn't belong to her. Nyle didn't know her. Nyle could never love her like he could. He tried not to be scared or intimidated by the possibility of spending the rest of his life in prison but if that's what it took to keep her to himself so be it. Nyle had done the ultimate no-no. Nyle had betrayed and hurt him in ways that were inexcusable and unforgivable. He'd brought this on himself.
He inhaled and exhaled through his mouth and slowly counted down from ten. Serenity was still standing beside Nyle shell-shocked, her eyes wide and full of fear. He could almost mentally hear her begging him not to do what he was thinking about doing. To walk away. He tried not to be distracted by it.
She's mine. She's fuckin' mine. All mine...
The minister was still running off at the mouth and everyone's heads were still bowed in prayer, completely oblivious to what was going on around them. The timing was perfect. All he had to do was pull. He stole one last look into his former lover's tormented beautiful eyes, put his finger to the trigger, and...
Tristan was immediately caught off guard as someone grabbed the gun with one hand and grabbed him around the waist with their arm, pinning him in place and stopping him just as he was about to fire the gun. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no," the intruder softly chastised him in his ear.
"What the fuck?" Tristan viciously whispered.
He jumped in surprise and grunted when he was practically lifted off his feet and all but carried out of the church. The intruder pushed him through the doors of the church, almost throwing him to the floor. If he hadn't caught himself, he would've fallen. The gun almost dropped from his hand and he quickly gathered himself and grabbed it, just as the doors of the church swung back closed. He could hear the unanimous chorus of Amens coming from inside just before they closed. The ceremony was almost over. And he hadn't had the chance to stop it. To kill Nyle. Who the fuck had stopped him?
Tristan struggled to catch his breath and looked up at the intruder who had ruined his plans. "Ricky," he said in an accusatory tone.
He eyed the flower in the lapel of the fancy tuxedo Ricky was wearing and felt like a weight had dropped in his stomach. "You're a part of this? You're a part of this shit? I thought we were friends. I would've thought you of all people would've told me. Why didn't you tell me about this, huh?"
