Benjy was standing at the end of the hallway with three men I vaguely recognized. Dad’s men. He was holding a pistol with a long cylinder attached to the end. I’ve watched enough movies to know that it makes guns quieter.
“Hello, Colleen,” Benjy said, sounding almost sad. “You have to come with us now.”
I shook my head. “Don’t do this,” I whispered. I nodded at Ubert, whose hands were twitching as he tried to reach for his gun. But the gunshot was a bad one and he was only barely clinging to consciousness. “Let me help him. Please.”
Benjy sighed and then tossed a severed finger onto the floor. I swallowed vomit.
“Please don’t make this harder than it has to be. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Don’t call him that!” I hissed. “You’re a grown man, Benjy. Do you have
