Checking the water meter?
...What the hell?
The fury on Cross's face vanished, replaced by bewilderment as he looked toward the door where three polite knocks had just sounded.
The next second.
The door swung open.
To be precise, someone had shot out the lock and then pushed the door open, strolling inside as if they owned the place.
Cross froze for a heartbeat before frantically trying to untie the ropes binding Wesley.
But.
Wesley, still lashed to the chair, suddenly lunged upward. He delivered a brutal headbutt straight into Cross's chin, then scrambled to his feet and bolted toward the stairs leading to the second floor.
Cross groaned, clutching his bleeding nose.
"Yo!"
Locke stepped through the threshold and thoughtfully closed the door behind him. Still wearing his sunglasses, he surveyed the scene, his gaze settling on the bleeding Cross in the middle of the living room.
Without another word.
Locke raised his hand.
*BANG!*
*CLINK!*
Two bullets collided instantly in mid-air.
Cross's expression at that moment was a mirror image of Fox's earlier—sheer disbelief that Locke's bullets could also curve.
Locke let out a soft laugh. He leaned casually against a support pillar, his voice flat and calm. "I believe you took something of mine. I've come to take it back."
Hiding in the kitchen, Cross slammed a fresh magazine into his pistol. "I have no intention of interrupting your game, Peerless. I only want to save my son!"
"Heh."
The corners of Locke's mouth curled up. He could hear the frantic thumping from upstairs—Wesley was clearly trying to smash the windows. "You say you're his father, but does he believe you? Fox says you aren't, so in his mind, you aren't."
Cross: "..."
When Locke had stepped out of his car earlier, he'd noted that all the windows in this house were reinforced ballistic glass.
Smashing them?
The kid could pound on them for half a day and never get through. Locke wasn't worried about Wesley slipping away.
However...
Locke checked the time on his wristwatch. He looked up toward the second floor and called out, "Wesley, I'm going to count to three. If you don't come down, I'll kill Fox."
Cross shouted, "Don't come out! He's already killed Fox!"
"I have not!"
"Fox is already dead by your hand."
"Heh."
Locke ignored Cross and focused on the staircase. "Who are you going to believe? A stranger? Or a man who claims to be your father but is actually the executioner who murdered him? Don't forget, you're wearing your father's suit!"
That belonged to Mr. X.
Not me.
Cross hadn't initially realized that the Fraternity had tricked his son into believing Cross was his father's killer. But the moment he saw Wesley wearing that specific suit, he knew.
His son might be an idiot, but he was his idiot son.
The sounds of window-smashing on the second floor ceased.
Locke's expression remained indifferent. "I'm counting to three. If you don't come out, you can start planning Fox's funeral."
"Three!"
Normally, Locke disdained petty psychological games.
But special circumstances required special measures. It was getting very late. Locke estimated that George Stacy would be knocking on his front door in thirty minutes at the earliest, or by tomorrow morning at the latest.
Even though he'd reported the Audi R8 stolen.
He still needed a solid narrative to convince a man like George.
He didn't have time to play hide-and-seek. If he wanted to play games, he wouldn't have suppressed his killing intent and rescheduled the Fraternity's annihilation for Monday's business hours.
"Two!"
"One!"
"Wesley, say goodbye to Fo—"
"Wait!"
"Don't come out!"
*BANG!*
*THUD!*
A shadow blurred as a figure lunged out with a roar. Cross used his own body to intercept a curving bullet aimed directly at his idiot son's ankle.
But even so, a second bullet tore through Cross's shoulder and—*thwack*—slammed right into Wesley's exposed ankle.
Instantly.
Wesley tumbled down the stairs like a sack of laundry, crashing into the foyer.
Cross wasn't doing any better.
With a sickening thud, he slammed against the wall, coughing up a mouthful of dark blood.
*BANG!*
*CLANG!*
*THUD!*
"Was it really worth it?"
Locke stepped out from the hallway, clicking his tongue. He looked at Cross—the "Great Father" who had just traded his life for a bullet meant for his son. "Do you think if you die, he gets to live?"
"Spare him!"
Cross wheezed, clutching the entry wound in his chest. His torso heaved as he stared at Locke.
Locke laughed!
"Give me a reason!"
"He was deceived."
"Mhm."
Locke nodded as if Cross were making perfect sense. "Tell you what, I'll give him a chance."
Saying this.
Locke reached down and dragged Wesley—whose mental state was already shattered by the night's chaos—over to Cross.
*CLATTER!*
Locke kicked Cross's sidearm over to Wesley's hand. "He's the man who killed your father. Haven't you been obsessing over getting revenge? I'm giving you the chance. Kill him."
Clutching his shattered ankle and drenched in cold sweat, Wesley stared down at the pistol.
A gun!
Wesley's eyes lit up as his fingers closed around the grip.
A month ago, he was a coward. He had been a coward his whole life.
But...
The gun had given him a second chance to be a man.
The moment Wesley held the weapon, he felt a flicker of security.
Locke couldn't have cared less that Wesley was armed. He simply said, thoughtfully, "What's wrong? Your father's killer is right in front of you. Not going to shoot?"
Wesley looked at Cross, who was clearly on the verge of death.
His face covered in blood, Cross managed a faint smile and lowered all his defenses.
Wesley hesitated.
Locke chuckled, raising the stakes. "Fox isn't dead. She's in the trunk of my car. Don't you want to see her?"
The image of Fox flashed through Wesley's mind.
And with it...
Passion!
Cross saw the shift in Wesley's expression. He glanced at Locke with a strange look in his eyes and sighed inwardly. "Come on, son. I shouldn't have left you alone with your mother."
Wesley looked up at Locke, swinging his right hand toward him. "I'll kill yo—"
*BANG!*
"Ugh!"
Wesley's eyes went wide. His head snapped back as a bullet hole appeared perfectly between his brows. He stared at the ceiling in disbelief before collapsing onto the floor with a heavy *thud*.
Cross closed his eyes, his expression a complex knot of grief as he looked at Wesley's lifeless face turned toward him.
Locke lowered his hand and looked at Cross. "Aren't you going to say thank you?"
It was obvious.
The moment Wesley tried to shoot Locke, regardless of the reason, he had chosen the side of Cross—his father.
However...
It was merely a mantis trying to stop a carriage. Pure folly.
Cross glanced at Locke, then closed his eyes again, expressionless.
Locke smiled.
*BANG!*
"You shouldn't have stolen my prey, Cross!"
"Or..."
"You shouldn't have dropped the body of Mr. Y on my car in the first place!"
"..."
***
Read 30 Chapters early on P-atreon.com/Redestro666