No signal.
Then Marcus Bennett appeared in the doorway.
He held a gun.
My blood turned to ice.
“You always were persistent, Christopher.”
I moved instinctively in front of the wheelchair.
Marcus smiled.
“And you must be Rachel.”
“You knew my brother.”
“Oh, I knew Ryan very well.”
My hands clenched.
“Where is he?”
Marcus tilted his head.
“Still hopeful?”
Christopher said, “Put the gun down.”
Marcus laughed.
“What exactly are you going to do?”
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.
I only remember hitting his chest and hearing him gasp as I wrapped my arms around him.
I screamed.
I cried.
I hit him.
