He Watched Me Die Twice Chapter 07
Damian’s men froze.
Damian arched an eyebrow. “What, getting cold feet?”
Martha shook her head. She leaned in close and whispered something in his ear.
Damian blinked in surprise, then burst out laughing.
Waving his men off, he strolled over and tipped my chin up with the toe of his dress shoe.
“Brianna,” he said, “your sister is way more ruthless than you are — and noticeably smarter.”
He gave Martha’s cheek an approving pat.
“If you die today, Brianna, Jonathan will hate you forever.
“Meanwhile, Martha steps in as his sole comfort — the one person he trusts completely.
“She gets to stay right by his side as my perfect little mole.”
Damian’s laughter echoed across the deck.
“Tell me, is that a brilliant plan or what?”
My jaw trembled.
Martha just smiled, looking unapologetically smug and triumphant.
Damian pulled the handgun from his waistband and tossed it to her.
“Since this was your bright idea, you get to pull the trigger.
“It’ll prove your loyalty to me.”
The gun was heavy. Martha stumbled a little when she caught it, but she quickly steadied her grip.
She stepped right up to me and leveled the cold muzzle dead between my eyes.
“Don’t blame me, Brianna,” she said.
She put on a sad face, but her voice was practically cheerful.
“If you’re going to be mad at anyone, be mad at yourself for getting in everybody’s way.
“Next time around, try getting born into a better hand so you aren’t such a nuisance.”
Looking up at her face, I suddenly smiled.
I smiled so hard my whole body shook. Tears streamed down my cheeks, mixing with the blood.
I didn’t beg for my life, and I didn’t curse her out.
A loud crack ripped through the air, and my forehead turned ice cold.
After that, nothing.
The video playback of my memory ended.
On the massive screen, the image froze on the exact millisecond the bullet hit my skull and blood sprayed through the air.
Then, my black-and-white memorial portrait faded back in.
This time, the plaza was dead quiet.
A few seconds ticked by before the crowd absolutely exploded.
“Kill her! Kill that monster, Martha!”
“She’s the real murderer! She got thirteen cops killed. She even shot her own sister!”
“People like her deserve to suffer! She should be tortured to death!”
Water bottles, soda cans, and half-eaten cobs of corn rained down from the crowd, pelting Martha.
Martha covered her head and screamed.
“No! It’s not what it looks like! The screen is broken! It’s a technical glitch!”
She looked around frantically. “Jonah! You have to believe me. That wasn’t me! Brianna faked the whole thing to ruin me!”
Jonathan turned and walked slowly, step by deliberate step, toward a trembling Martha.
The plaza instantly went quiet again. Every single eye was on him.
Just then, a booming voice echoed over the PA system.
“That is enough.”
The crowd parted.
An older man in a crisp police uniform, gold rank insignia gleaming on his shoulders, marched up to the stage flanked by a heavy escort of officers.
It was Giovani Pelley, Chief of the Chicago Police Department.
He was also the man who had personally pulled me out of the police academy all those years ago, handing me the undercover assignment.