The second gunshot cracked through the stormy night like thunder from hell itself. Victoria Voss jerked violently as the bullet slammed into her shoulder, spinning her around. Blood sprayed across the wet driveway, mixing with the pouring rain that hammered down relentlessly. Elena stood frozen, gun still raised, her arms trembling with adrenaline and raw fury. The cold rain soaked through her clothes, chilling her to the bone, while the metallic scent of blood filled her nostrils.
Victoria turned slowly, one hand clutching her fresh wound, her elegant face twisted in a mixture of pain and twisted pride. Blood streamed down her arm, dripping onto the gravel.
“Twice,” she rasped, voice wet and labored. “My own daughter shot me twice. You really are my blood.”
Damien lay at Elena’s feet,
