Snapping Point||Book 1

25.

I stood frozen, my feet rooted to the spot where the dead man lay on the floor, a pool of blood spreading out around him like a dark halo. The sounds of movement inside the cabin seemed distant, muffled by the shock that had taken hold of me. Joanna emerged, her dark green top a clear contrast to the pale, lifeless skin of the guard.

She approached me, her phone still clutched in her hand, and nudged me gently with her shoulder. "Zee, what the fuck are you staring at?"

The dead man. I couldn't tear my gaze away from the dead man, my mind replaying the moment Ivan's bullet had taken his life, along with that of the second guard. In spite of knowing the nature of my uncle, the sight still sent shivers up my back.

Joanna's firm push jolted me into motion, my feet leaving a trail of crimson imprints on the foyer floor as I stumbled away. "Get a grip. It was either him or us," she muttered. She held me into warm arms to soothe me and patted my back. "Easy, easy. It's the enemy's blood."

Enemy or not, blood is blood. And I hated to see it spilled because it usually reminded me of why I was an orphan.

My sound of breathing was rising as my heart pulsated. I was going to panic to death. It wasn't my first time of seeing a dead man in a lake of his own blood—my father had died that way. But my emotions throughout the week in conjunction with this, was doing a number on me.

I hugged my sister and started crying. The tears just didn't stop coming as I laughed and cried. Laughed because I was glad to have her close again, cried because anything I freaking saw a corpse, I was taking back to London, slamming shutters, heavy rain and an ominous sound of a gunshot cracking the house.

Holding her in my arms again felt so good, I didn't want it to end.

"Are you okay?"

"Better than ever," Joanna affirmed with a nod, her gentle touch wiping away my tears. The scent of fresh flowers lingered on her hand. "It's all good," she reassured me, her words carrying a sense of determination. "The bastard will pay when the time is right."

Though conflicted, I nodded in agreement, keeping my true feelings about Romano hidden. No one needed to know the depth of my attachment to him.

"Let's go home," I suggested, eager to leave the chaos behind and find solace in the familiarity of our own surroundings.

We had gotten to the van before Ivan came out of the cabin with a few things in his hands, together with his gun. He glared at them as he walked down.

And when he pulled the door open to enter, Joanna bounced to grab them from him. "Anything good?" She asked, slithering to the front passenger's seat to stay beside him.

Ivan's hold on Joanna was firm as he pulled her close, planting a rough kiss on her lips that bordered on possessive. His whispered endearments sent a chill of disgust down my spine.

Joanna's response was cool, almost indifferent, as if she were simply going through the motions. It made me wonder what drove her to play along with Ivan's advances, despite the familial ties that should have set boundaries.

As their make-out continued, I felt helplessness and a sense of discomfort, a nagging feeling that something was fundamentally wrong with the situation. Ivan was supposed to be the responsible adult, but there he was, succumbing to his baser desires without a second thought, kissing his niece and not caring a darn that he was in love with her.

Turning away, I sought to distract myself from the unsettling scene, only to have my gaze land once again on the lifeless bodies in the foyer. God. Nothing would ever be right about my world.