Nathan dove in without a thought, and popped above the surface, beckoning to us as the boat tried to take us away. “Hurry.”
“Ok—”
Bang!
I slipped out of Carter’s hold, slamming on the deck. My love staggered, eyes wide as confusion flooded him, and time slowed. I moved through syrup, reaching for him, and he fell—tipping over the side with a splash dwarfed by my scream.
“Carter!”
Bang!
Preston lurched back as the bullet burrowed in the hull, inches from where he was standing.
A hand curled around the cockpit railing, pulling up a smoldering figure.
I gasped, clapping a hand over my mouth.
The left side of Mal’s face was burning—the flesh bubbling in its ravage, and reflecting the true beast I’d always known. Bits of his clothes were still on fire. He ripped his shirt off and knocked himself off-balance, tumbling onto the deck.
Mal recovered fast, yanking the gun up and firing at Preston with a howl that curdled my soul.
“Stop!” I flung myself at him, tackling his arm as Preston cried out.
Preston collapsed next to the cabin steps, clutching his leg. Spittle flew from his mouth as pain contorted his features.
Shoving me off, Mal stood up, gaze burning as he leveled the final shot. “She’s mine. She will always be mine.”
He pulled back the trigger.
“No!” I jumped and smashed my head on his elbow. The shot went wide—gun flying from his hand. Unthinkingly, I dove as he did, scrabbling for the weapon.
He closed over my hand, and mine did the handle. I twisted out of his grip onto my back.
Mal stilled, looking down the barrel.
“Arabella.”
I scrambled away until my back hit the rail. I got to my feet, gun trained on him the whole time.
“What are you doing, Arabella? Put it down.”
“Do it, Belle,” Nathan shouted.
Half ruined beyond recognition, he was still so beautiful. I shook as he morphed. Eyes softening—beseeching. Hatred washing away. “I love you,” he said. “All I’ve done is for us to be together. You know that.”
He took a step forward. “You don’t want to do this. This isn’t you.” Mal placed his hand over his chest. “I’m the monster, remember. You’re good. You are all the good that is left in this world.”
“D-don’t listen,” Preston rasped, breaking into my fog. “Do it, Belle. Kill him.”
“It’ll be different from now on,” Mal said. He took another step. “I’ll get help, okay? I’ll never hit you again. Just let me, a chroí. Let me love you. That’s all I ever wanted to do.”
His arm slowly came up.
“She’s not coming, Belle.” Through my tears, my pain, my endless years of misery, Nathan found me. “Save yourself.
“Leave the garden.”
Mal grabbed the gun.
Bang!
We stared at each other—my mouth open in a soundless scream. His in surprise.
“Ara... bella?”
I fired again.
And again.
And again.
I didn’t stop even as the gun clicked empty in my hands.
Mal staggered back, looking down at the holes in his chest like he couldn’t understand. Raising his head, he met my eyes and—
“Belle?”
Mal fell over the side, disappearing into the depths. And my dad—the father a part of me loved even now—who held me on his lap and told me of the stars—sank with him. Ending our tale once and for all.
I fell to my knees, crying so hard I feared I’d never stop.
Kisses peppered my face, pulling me gently from sleep.
“Wake up, my darling. Your dinner is here.”
I blinked, coming to as the nurse wheeled in my tray. After days eating hospital food, it was hard to get excited at the sight of that tray, but the dame was determined to have me well and on my feet. She wasn’t above sticking the nutrients in an IV and pumping it directly in.
“I’m awake.”
Dad raised my bed for me to sit up. “Is that too much? Do you feel okay?” He’d been fussing worse than Mom.
I couldn’t blame them.
Our parents realized where the boys must have run off to almost instantly. They arrived as Nathan pulled Carter out of the water and nearly fainted as our boat pulled in. Preston shot and my lip split, eyes puffy, ribs bruised, and limping on one knee.
“I’m fine, Daddy.” I opened my pudding and slid it to him. “Have some. Chocolate is your favorite.”
“No. You need to eat and gather your strength.”
“What I really need”—I gave them both a look—“is for you to tell me what happened.”
Mom turned away, busying herself with uncovering my salad and pouring the dressing. “I