A glint of something that looks a hell of a lot like approval shines in his gaze when he looks up at me.

More sirens pierce the air as the deputies arrive, blue and red lights flashing. The reporters have abandoned their cover in favor of snapping as many pictures of the aftermath of what happened.

The deputies set up a perimeter and shoo the press away, but they don’t stop. They’re vultures, just like Whitney said.

Renee Rango might have been crazy, but even she deserves better than that. I stand up to open the gate for the sheriff and yell as it shuts behind him.

“Put your fucking cameras down and have some goddamned respect.”

Every head turns in my direction, and I couldn’t care less. I return to my grandfather’s side while we await the EMTs.

He answers the sheriff’s questions about what happened, and I can’t help but feel sorry for Renee Rango. Something in her broke a long time ago, and she never recovered.

Or my father broke her.

Just the thought of how many lives his actions have affected makes me vow that I’ll never be like him. And now we may never know the whole truth of what happened.

Twelve

Whitney

Harrison looks up over the edge of his newspaper when McKinley and I return to the drawing room. I didn’t want to come in the house. I wanted to stay out front with Lincoln, but McKinley convinced me to come inside by telling me I would just distract him.

“Were those gunshots?” Harrison asks.

“Are you serious? How could you not come out and check on us if you thought you heard gunshots?” McKinley snaps. “Do you really not give a damn about anything but yourself?”

Harrison lowers the paper. “Why would I run toward gunshots? I’m not an idiot. Either way, I figured that if Lincoln got shot, someone had to survive to take over the company.”

His nonchalant tone and absolute lack of concern makes me want to murder him where he sits. How can he be so callous about the health and safety of his own siblings? I hate thinking of Asa out in the field where he’s no doubt dodging bullets regularly. It guts me to think of him in danger.

McKinley lashes out at her brother. “That’s all you care about, isn’t it? The money you’d inherit if Lincoln died? You disgust me.”

“For being smart? I refuse to apologize for that, and it’s certainly not disgusting. Father would have approved.” He drops his attention back to his paper, and I want to rip it out of his hands and beat him over the head with it.

Harrison reminds me of Karma, and as far as I’m concerned, you don’t need enemies when you have family like that.

McKinley swipes her laptop off the table and holds it against her chest. “I hope you can pull your head out of your ass and realize what a dick you’re being without us losing another family member. Commodore just got shot, and you haven’t even bothered to ask if everyone was okay.”