“Don’t you dare tell me you’re sorry.” Anthony hissed. “Now turn around, and start walking. I think it’s about time we let your beloved know that he has company. Don’t you?”
*
Isla felt as though her entire body was made of lead. Her feet dragged as she made her way up the staircase, with Anthony pressing the cold, hard, steel of the shotgun barrels between her shoulder blades, urging her on.
Her mind, which had been racing when she’d first come face-to-face with Anthony, was now eerily still, and empty, aside from one thought: survival.
She had to get the gun away from Anthony. Without it, he was just a man. A man could be talked to, reasoned with, but not when a single wrong word on her part could lead to instant death. She had to get Anthony to see that she understood his pain, that his anger was valid. She had to make him believe that she was on his side.
Ethan’s bedroom door was closed, but Isla could hear movement in the room beyond. She hesitated on the top step. Oh God, was this really happening? How was she going to do this?
A swift jab of the gun against her back forced her forward, reminding her that she had no choice.
Isla’s hand shook as she twisted the door handle. The room was dark, but moonlight pooled beneath the windows, and Ethan stood inside it. From his damp hair, and the woodsy scent in the air, Isla knew he’d showered, but he hadn’t finished dressing yet- his torso was bare above the waistband of his faded black jeans.
At the sound of the door opening, he turned, and for a brief second his eyes passed over Isla, and her heart constricted. Oh, Ethan. Why couldn’t he have told her the truth? Then it might never have come to this.
“Who’s there?” Ethan’s voice was low but steady.
Anthony had instructed Isla not to speak, had warned her that if she did, she’d be dead before the words had left her mouth, but she’d had no idea how hard it would be not to answer. Words bubbled inside her, rushing to the surface. If she’d thought it would save Ethan, she’d have let her dying scream be a warning, but she didn’t imagine either one of them would survive, and besides, another instinct had kicked in at the sight of the gun back in the study. An instinct she hadn’t been prepared for but had overwhelmed her nonetheless. It wasn’t just her that she had to think about.
So, Isla bit down on the inside of her cheeks, and let the tears fall unchecked from her eyes. Still, she couldn’t fool him.
“Isla? Is that you?” The mix of hope and confusion in Ethan’s voice broke Isla’s heart, and it was all she could do to stifle the sob she felt building in her chest.
Ethan took a step forward and then stopped, his head tilting. “Is someone with you?”
He was smart. Smarter than she’d been, but then she hadn’t known about the danger, whereas Ethan had been living with the threat of it for five years. So many things made sense now that she knew. If only he’d told her sooner...before it was too late.
Ethan moved suddenly out of the light, into shadow, ducking down beside the bed, and reaching beneath. He patted the floor frantically, and Isla knew what he was looking for, and that he wouldn’t find it, because it was currently being pushed into her back.
Finally, Ethan gave up, his breathing harsh as he rocked back onto his heels, and ran one hand through his wet hair.
“Looking for this?” Behind her, Anthony cocked the gun. The click echoed in the silence of the dark room.
Adrenaline surged through Isla’s body, and her legs wobbled beneath her.
Ethan rose to his feet at the end of the bed, and Isla recognised the look on his face, and the lines of tension through his body, because it was exactly how he’d looked the first time she ever saw him, and she knew then that this was what he had been waiting for. What he’d warned her against, the reason he’d pushed her away, and what, in some strange way, Isla suddenly felt sure he almost craved. Atonement.
Ethan MacRae’s moment of reckoning had finally arrived. And Isla was standing right in the middle of it.
*
Every nerve in Ethan’s body had screamed to attention at the tell-tale click of the shotgun across the room, and then Anthony’s voice, low and mocking, over the sound of something else, something that scared him even more- the light, too-fast breath of someone terror-stricken, trying not to make a noise. Isla.
That Anthony had finally come for him was no surprise. That he had Isla was every one of Ethan’s worst nightmares come true. He had to think, and quickly.
“What do you want, Anthony?” Ethan worked hard to keep his voice even.
“What do I want? Really? You’ve got some balls asking me that, Ethan MacRae. What I want I can never have, because you took her from me, forever.”
“I didnae take her, Anthony. She wasnae a toy that you hadnae finished playing with. Briony was a woman, with her own mind.”
“Don’t say her name! Don’t you fucking say her name to me!” The floorboards creaked with Anthony’s movement, and Isla whimpered.
Ethan wanted so badly to reassure her, to tell her it would be okay, but he needed to keep the focus on himself, to remind Anthony that this was between them. Not her. It was the only way he could think to save her, and even then…
“She was my fiancée,” Anthony’s voice shook with rage. “You were my friend.”
There was no answer to that. No justification. No excuse. Nothing that mattered.
“If I could take it back, I would,” Ethan said, truthfully. It was all he longed for, the only thing he’d ever prayed for- to undo what he’d done.
“But you can’t. No one can. That’s why I have to do this.” There was no expression in Anthony’s tone. He was like an automaton, repeating something he’d been programmed to say. How many times had Anthony said the words to himself before he’d believed them?
“You dinnae have to do anything.”
“Yes. I do.”
“Then at least let Isla go. This has nothing to do with her.”
Anthony barked a hollow laugh that raised the hairs on Ethan’s body. He hadn’t realised how far Anthony had slid, but he knew now that the Anthony he’d known was long gone, and like his former self, like Briony...there was no bringing any of them back.
“You’re kidding, right? It has everything to do with her. She loves you, Ethan. She trusts you. Like I did, like Briony did. Well...we all know how that ended.”
“I don’t.” They were the first words Isla had spoken, and they came out cracked, and hoarse.
Ethan heard the sickening thump of something heavy impacting against something soft, and Isla cried out. Ethan rushed forward instinctively but remembered the gun. Where was Anthony pointing it? He had to be sure before he took any risks, whose life it was he was risking.
“Did I say you could speak?” Anthony hissed.
“No...but…” Isla gasped in pain, and Ethan’s saw red, the blood roaring in his ears. “You should know...I don’t love him.”
Ethan felt rather than heard the words. It was as though Anthony had opened fire on him after all, and the shots peppered his chest. He knew now how Isla must have felt in the hospital waiting room, why she’d staggered back, falling into a chair. Because the pain was physical. He’d done that to her. To save her, he reminded himself, but she hadn’t known that. Still didn’t know that. And he’d failed anyway because here she was. In danger, because of him.
Anthony snorted. “A likely story. Get up.”
There was a scuffle.
“It’s true,” Isla said, sounding braver now. “How could I, knowing what I know now?”
She was right. And the worst part was, she still didn’t even know all of it.
Ethan hung his head, swallowed hard, and lifted it. Still, his voice cracked on the first syllable. “See. I told you, Anthony. This is between us. Let her go. You heard what she said, she doesnae even love me.”
“Even if I believed that, I still can’t let her leave.”
“I won’t call the police if that’s what you’re worr
ied about. I swear,” Isla said. “You can have your revenge, he deserves it.”
She really did hate him. Ethan had known all along that she would. How could she not? But the venom in her tone took his breath away.
“Please,” Isla begged. “Please just let me go.”
“And let you continue his legacy after he ended mine?”
What? Ethan’s mind screeched to a halt.
“What?” Isla’s rasped question echoed Ethan’s own.
“You forget, I know your little secret, Isla. I could possibly believe you don’t love him, maybe even take your word that you’d leave him here without a backwards glance to save your own skin. But you can’t possibly think I’d let you walk out of here, knowing that his little bastard is growing in your belly?”
Ethan felt the blood draining from his face, as his brain struggled to process what Anthony had just said.
Isla was...pregnant?
Ethan wiped one shaking hand over his face. “Is it true?”
“You’re the liar Ethan, not me,” Anthony spat.
“Let her answer,” Ethan barked.
“Fine. Go on, sweetheart, why not give the father-to-be the happy news?”
Isla started to cry.
“Apparently it’s not the cause for celebration I imagined,” Anthony said. “Still, at least it’s not as bad as finding out from an autopsy report, hey?”
A small, wounded noise escaped Ethan.
“What?” Isla’s voice was thick with tears.
“So many secrets, Ethan. So many lies.” Anthony tutted. “Should I tell her, or will you? Are you even capable of it?”
Ethan sank to the bed. He lifted his head and tried to pinpoint where Isla was in the room. It wasn’t difficult from her ragged, half-crying breaths. He might not be able to look her in the eyes, but he at least wanted her to have the option of looking in his, while he bared the darkest of all his secrets to her.
“Briony…” Ethan took a deep breath. “When she died, Briony was pregnant.”
Forty Five
A baby. Isla’s stomach churned, and her mind spun. Briony’s...and Ethan’s? How could she possibly ask, under the circumstances? And did it even matter?
Briony, and her baby, were dead, and now her former fiancé was pressing a shotgun barrel into Isla’s side, and at any minute she - and her baby - would suffer the same fate. She’d spent months denying that Rosehill was cursed, but the irony of the current situation was too powerful to ignore.
There might not have been ghosts in the halls, but there were skeletons in every closet, and now they were loose...and they wanted blood.
Ethan looked like he might throw-up. There was no colour left in his face at all. His hands clenched and unclenched against his thighs.
“Well, now everyone knows everything,” Anthony said. “I think it’s time for some closure, don’t you?”
*
Anthony herded them up to the second floor. He was impatient, jabbing the gun into Isla’s back to hurry her along. Ethan stumbled on the staircase without his cane, and Anthony pressed the gun to the back of his head.
“Get up.”
Isla felt like crying, but she fought it, knowing it would only make things worse. Ethan got to his feet, his jaw set, his expression grim, and continued to climb the stairs, as though his former best friend wasn’t forcing him at gunpoint.
Anthony brought them to a standstill outside the tower door, and Isla knew that if they went in there with him, there was little chance of them coming out alive, but what other choice did they have? Running was suicide, and Anthony was clearly beyond reason. He yanked open the grille and gestured with the gun.
“Ethan first.”
It was a slow climb, and Isla wracked her brains as she stumbled up the narrow, unforgiving staircase, trying to come up with some way - any way - that she could turn this around, save herself, save Ethan...save their child. But her mind was a seascape with fresh horrors surfacing every time she tried to think. It was hard to feel sympathy for someone holding you at gunpoint, but when she thought of the tragedy and loss that bound Anthony and Ethan together, she couldn’t help but feel sorrow for both of them. It would be easier if Anthony was a fairytale villain they could overpower during a monologue, and kill without a thought, but he was just a guy who'd lost everything, including his grip on reality, and as scared as she was of him, Isla couldn’t bring herself to hate him.
Still, she flinched when he grabbed her roughly by the shoulder.
“You, sit there. You-” Anthony grabbed Ethan “-there.”
He sat them on opposite sides of the tower.
“You move, he dies, you move, she dies. Clear?”
Isla nodded mutely.
“Good. This is how this is going to work. You two are going to stay here, and I’m going to finish what I was doing before I was rudely interrupted by the sound of a car in the driveway.” Anthony gave her a pointed look. “Then I’ll be lighting the fire.”
Oh god, the petrol. That’s why his hands had smelled of it, he must have been dousing the place when she’d arrived.
“Then Rosehill will burn, with you both inside. A great tragedy, but a fitting end, I’m sure you’ll agree.”
“You willnae get away with it,” Ethan said. His voice held a quiet, barely concealed fury.
“Why not? You did.”
“That was an accident. This...this is murder.”
“Oh, no doubt, but when they find your bodies - assuming the fire doesn’t destroy all trace of you - I’m sure the scene will tell it’s own story. One dead, pregnant, lover they might forgive you for, Ethan, but two? There’s not a soul alive who wouldn’t believe you capable of it.”
Isla fought back bile at the suggestion. The idea of dying in agony was bad enough, but to know that Ethan would be blamed, that they would become yet another cautionary tale in Rosehill’s history...finally, Isla felt the hatred she’d denied blooming inside her. How dare he appoint himself judge, jury and executioner?
“That’s not true,” she spat out before she had time to reconsider.
Anthony turned to her slowly, one eyebrow raised.
“There are plenty of people who wouldn’t believe it. Anyone who knows Ethan would know that he isn’t capable of murder, that he would never hurt someone on purpose, that he would never hurt me-” Isla cut off abruptly, and Anthony’s eyes widened.
“I knew it. You do love him. Even now.” Anthony shook his head slowly in disbelief.
Isla risked a glance at Ethan. His lips were parted in surprise, but he wore the same grim expression he had moments earlier.
What had she got to lose? She was going to die anyway.
“Yes, I love him. He’s a good person, with a complicated past. I’m sorry for what happened to Briony. I can only imagine your heartache, but if you think this will make it better, you’re wrong.”
“I’m wrong?” Anthony’s voice was like thunder. He thrust the barrel of the gun towards her. “I’m wrong?” he repeated. His eyes glittered dangerously. “He was there when I chose the ring, he was the first person I told when she said yes, and then he fucked her, and killed her...and I’m wrong?”
Anthony’s finger hovered over the trigger, and Isla sucked in air through her teeth. This was it. He wasn’t going to wound her. Not at this distance. Not with that look in his eyes. She’d be dead in minutes. But maybe it was better this way.
“I didnae just fuck her.”
Anthony’s concentration flickered. His finger still twitched over the trigger, but he shot a sideways glance at Ethan.
“I loved her,” Ethan continued. “And she loved me.”
Anthony gave Ethan his full attention, swinging the long barrels towards him. “Liar.”
“It’s the truth,” Ethan said. “That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? The truth. I wonder though if you can handle it.” Ethan got to his feet in one fluid motion.
“Sit the fuck down,” Anthony growled. “And shut up.”
<
br /> “No,” Ethan said. “You’re going to kill me? Fine. But what about the others?”
“Others?”
“The other men Briony cheated on you with. You didnae think I was the only one, did you? The last, aye, but not the first.”
“You’re a fucking liar. She did not.”
“Oh come on, Anthony. She was, what- twelve, when you met her? You think she was faithful to you from that day on? She told me everything, how trapped she felt, how she couldnae see a way out that wouldnae destroy both of your families.”
“Bullshit. We were childhood sweethearts. Soulmates. We had a connection. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Oh, I understood. I understood perfectly well when she came to me that first night at The Regent.”
Anthony’s grip on the gun tightened, and a frisson of fear shot through Isla.
What the hell was Ethan doing? Anthony was going to shoot him any second now if he didn’t shut up about his and Briony’s affair.
“The launch? You...that night?” Anthony shook his head. “No. I don’t believe you.”
Ethan shrugged, as though he hadn’t a care in the world. “Believe me or no, it’s true.”
Anthony gaped. “You...she...but that was…”
“A year before. Aye.” Ethan’s head dropped, his bravado slipping, and Isla’s pulse slowed fractionally. Maybe he would sit down now he’d got that off his chest. Maybe there was still a way this didn’t end with Ethan being shot right in front of her.
“You must have known.” Ethan tilted his head. “How could you not? I kept waiting for you to figure it out. For you to come barrelling into the office one morning, and knock me out. I waited for it, Anthony. I deserved it, and I waited for it, but it never came. And then I started to think...maybe you didnae care.”
“That’s not true!” Anthony shouted. His hands were shaking. Isla’s pulse dialled up a notch.
“But what other explanation could there be for how easy it was? That’s why…” Ethan took a breath. “That’s why we got careless. And then...she was pregnant.”
Understanding dawned on Anthony’s face. “You’re not suggesting...you don’t think, that the baby was yours?”
Out of Sight Page 35