Christopher’s face became stone.
“You killed my father.”
“No. Cancer did.”
“You tried to kill me.”
“That remains unproven.”
Marcus looked at the metal box.
“Give me that.”
“No,” I said.
He pointed the gun at me.
“Rachel.”
Christopher spoke quietly.
“Do it.”
I stared at him.
“Give him the box.”
I realized he was buying time.
I slowly lifted it.
Then a voice came from behind Marcus.
“Drop the gun.”
Marcus froze.
My entire body stopped.
I knew that voice.
Older.
Rougher.
But I knew it.
Marcus turned.
A man stood in the hallway holding a pistol with both hands.
Gray touched his beard.
A scar crossed his left cheek.
His eyes were wet.
“Hey, Rach.”
The box fell from my hands.
“Ryan?”
My brother smiled.
I don’t remember crossing the room.
