Night is darker without Isobel.

Everything is darker.

Everything will be dark now that her light is gone from the world.

The last spark of starlight died with her last breath.

Her letter falls from my fingers. I lounge in my penthouse. Flickering candles do little to light the massive space.

The room was full when she was here. Now, the cavernous ceiling threatens to swallow me whole.

I take a drink. Wine tastes like nothing. I will taste nothing since I can no longer taste her.

Love, Isobel.

A command.

A promise.

A benediction.

I pull out my gun. Merc takes a sharp breath. He and Benny watch me from the fireplace.

And in their triumph die, like fire and powder.

There is no triumph in senseless death.

Isobel’s death was senseless.

They drove her to it. They took everything from her and made her…

No. They didn’t do it.

I did.

I wasn’t good enough or fast enough to stop this. I fucked up, got myself arrested, and left her alone and vulnerable.

“I can’t live without her now,” I say, still looking at my gun.

“Killing yourself doesn’t solve anything,” Benny says softly from across the room.

“Killing the fucker who stole her from me does,” I say, standing. I check my gun and look at my friends. “Ask for volunteers—but not ones with family at home. I’m going in. The Governor will answer for her death. Should’ve done this in the first place.”

Merc has his phone out, already calling in the troops.

The Montagues will rise. We will take down the Governor’s mansion, and I will take down the Governor himself.

“Benny, you and Merc stay here. I might need you to bail my ass out again,” I say, trying to smile, but my oldest friend sees through me.

“Not happening, brother. You can’t leave us out of the action. I know what she meant to you. We loved her like a sister. We have your back.” Benny pulls out his own weapon and checks the clip. “Besides, this sounds like fun,” he says with a grimace.

“Fifteen guys will meet us a block from the mansion. We go in the second wave, let the guys take out the first line of defense, then we come in. Gives you a better shot of getting to the master suite,” Merc says, putting his phone back in his jacket pocket before pulling out his own gun.

He nods to me. My heart is ice, but I know I should be grateful to my friends.

They’ll get me in. They’ll give me my shot.

This is the last thing we’ll ever do together. I hope they live—but right now, I couldn’t care less about myself.

We take the Jag, the red curves reminding me of Rosaline. The nights I spent with her pale in comparison to a moment with Isobel. If I could, I would trade every fuck with Rosaline and every other woman I’ve ever known for one more night with Isobel.

Fifteen guys wearing black balaclava, armed with guns and the best training in the city meet us a block from the Governor’s mansion. We can see the white columns from here.

I leave the keys in the Jag. There isn’t a fucker dumb enough to steal a Montague car, not that I care anymore.

Three tall guys take point. I don’t ask their names. I pull on my own balaclava and take my position in the center behind the first row of guys.

My heart is pounding; I steady my breath. Adrenaline is a great thing, but I can’t be too amped.

I have to keep my goal in mind. The Governor.

“Go,” I shout.

The three in front take off at a run. A beat behind them are Merc and Benny. The others scatter around us, coming at the mansion from a wide arc.

The door is open, and the guy in front of me stumbles, a gunshot to the shoulder.

But he doesn’t stop. None of us will.

I won’t stop until the Governor’s dead, and my men won’t stop until our mission is accomplished. It’s about loyalty. These are my best and brightest, men who I know would never betray me.

Taking the house by storm is confusing and chaotic but I continue forward, goal in mind. I fire at guards, counting my shots.

The air smells like blood and gunpowder.

Guys are going down everywhere, some women too.

Bang!

I only have two shots left. I holster my gun. I need those last two shots.

Someone grabs me and has a knife to my throat.

Bang!

Merc shoots the guy behind me, dead between the eyes. He nods to me, and I run up the stairs.

My feet fall in time with my pounding heart.

“Upstairs!” calls a guard.

Three men appear at the top of the stairs. Three guns point at me.

I have to get past them. I have to get to him; it doesn’t matter how.

I bend my head and charge towards them. A bullet grazes my shoulder, then it connects with the heavy body of a man.

My vision is all red with pain. I swear and throw the guy I charged over the railing. I can’t hear the thud of his fall; I’m too busy hitting the other two.

They hit me again and again with fists and the butt of their guns. But my breathing is even now.

I’m almost there. I will find the Governor, and I will kill him.

Then I will kill myself.

Only then can I rest.

Because only in death can I see Isobel again in heaven or on the Other Side or whatever the fuck you want to call it. She will be mine eternally, someway, somehow.

The pain in my shoulder fades to the back of my mind. I evade the blows coming my way. I toss guards over the rail and out of my way. The fighting continues downstairs.

“Tristan! Go!” Benny shouts from the bottom the stairs.

He runs halfway up and turns his back to give me cover. This leaves me free to find the Governor.

Those double doors at the end of the hall—that must be the master suite. Now is my moment. I kick down the door.

The Governor stands in front of a tall mirror, tying a white bow under his neck as the finishing touch for his tux.

“You can’t even mourn her, can you, you bastard?” I spit at him.

He turns to me cooly.

“Montague. What the fuck do you think you’re doing? I see you got past my guards.” Even his voice is cold. “Do you have any idea what I’m going to do to you and your family because of this?”

“You won’t do anything. Ever again,” I answer, pulling my gun and aiming it between his beady little eyes.

His eyes widen. The fat fuck hasn’t been challenged in a long time. He had not expected this.

Then, he closes the distance between us in two quick steps before I have a chance to pull the trigger. He bats the gun out of my hand and goes in for a punch.

My gun falls to the floor as I block the blow. He takes another swing at me.

I duck and slug him in the face. His nose breaks under my hand, blood spraying his arrogant face.

We trade blows. I lose track of how many I gain and the throbbing pain of the few he lands. My shoulder is tired, and my adrenaline is fading.

I need to end this. I need to finish him, so I can join my Isobel.

I grab him, and we fall into the mirror. Glass shatters, falling like stars around us.

His breathing is ragged. I think I broke one of his ribs. I grab my gun and jump to my feet.

“You killed her! You fucking killed her, you greedy motherfucker!” My voice quakes with rage as I stare down the man who stole my life.

This is the end. Time slows.

One shot to end his existence...and another to end my pain.