Chapter 8: The Cost of Blood
The gunshot deafened the room.
Julian lunged forward, but it wasn't Thomas who fired. Eleanor had charged at Thomas, slamming her frail body against his arm just as he pulled the trigger. The bullet tore into the antique grandfather clock, shattering the glass casing and showering the floor with shards.
Julian tackled Thomas to the ground, pinning his arms and wrenching the revolver from his grip with a brutal twist. Thomas screamed in pain as Julian pressed the steel barrel against his cousin's temple.
"Give me one reason why I shouldn't end you right now," Julian hissed, the darkness of his ancestral bloodline threatening to consume him.
"Julian, stop!" Claire pleaded, running toward him. "Look at Emma! If you pull that trigger, you become Arthur! You become everything we are trying to escape!"
Julian stared down at Thomas, whose eyes were wide with terror. Julian’s finger tightened on the trigger, every instinct screaming for vengeance. But then he looked over his shoulder.
Emma had opened her eyes. In the pale moonlight filtering through the shattered window, the little girl watched her father with pure, innocent wonder.
Julian took a ragged breath and struck Thomas across the jaw with the handle of the gun, knocking him unconscious. He tossed the weapon aside onto the Persian rug.
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"It ends tonight," Julian whispered.
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