Tiffany’s heart pounded in her chest as she stared down the barrel of Henri’s gun. Tears blurred her vision, grief and rage threatening to consume her.
Her father lay motionless at her feet, blood pooling around him. She could see the faint rise and fall of his chest, a fragile reassurance that he wasn’t gone yet. But time was slipping away, and she had to act fast before she lost him too.
“Don’t do this, Henri,” she pleaded, her voice trembling. “Enough people have died already. This won’t change what happened to you.”
Henri’s finger tightened on the trigger. His cold gaze didn’t waver. “You’re right, it won’t change the past. But it will give me the satisfaction of wiping out the rest of this wretched family.”
Her voice cracked as she asked, “Did you kill John too?”
Henri’s brow fur
