Page 58 of Tye

Liza had contacted the police, and they were on their way, but I doubted they’d arrive in time. We’d been waiting a few minutes when West finally stumbled into view.

Wow, he looked rough and totally unhinged. My eyes widened in surprise as I took in the unkempt man in front of me. West was a total mess.

“Drop your weapon, West,” I called.

“Fuck you, Michaelson!” he screamed, his head twisting from one side to another.

I caught sight of him. He was completely crazed.

“He’s lost the plot,” Christian whispered.

“Fucker’s lost something,” Dad agreed.

“West, you are surrounded; there are weapons on you. Give up and come quietly,” I demanded.

“No!” he screeched. “You ruined my life. You’re going to die!”

“Seriously, man, there’s at least ten guns on you.”

“Liar!”

“Call out!” Dad shouted, and everyone called out.

West spun in a circle as he was bombarded by names.

“See. You will not get close to me. Drop the weapon,” I repeat.

“I’ll blow you all up,” West challenged.

“Before you hit the button, there’ll be a bullet through your head,” Dad boomed.

“Why won’t he die? He is like the devil.” West screamed.

His hand twitched, and I took aim.

“Don’t make me do this. I don’t wanna shoot, but I will,” I warned.

“I hate you! You and your faggot brother.”

“Carmine and I did shit to you, and he’s not gay! I’m tired of you accusing him and being a cunt. What makes a male rape victim gay? You’re so fuckin’ prejudiced you can’t even think clearly,” I shouted, my temper igniting.

West swung his weapon towards me, and I fired. My bullet took him through the head. An expression of surprise crossed his face and then he tumbled backwards slowly. I felt a glancing pain in my arm and looked down to see blood seeping through my long-sleeved tee.

“Fucker shot me,” I growled out as security flooded the place.

“Are you okay?” Dad demanded as he ripped my top and checked my wound.

I peered down and saw it was just a graze. A bandage would do fine.

Sirens wailed as RCPD finally arrived, and I clicked the safety on my gun and then carefully placed it on the floor as cops swarmed us.

“Lawyer,” Dad snapped as Ramirez approached.

Ramirez snorted and moved me aside.

“This was a home invasion, and I can easily see the bomb, Drake. Ice doesn’t need a lawyer, even if he was the one who shot him,” Ramirez said.

“Lawyer,” Dad insisted, and Ramirez rolled his eyes.