*****

TRIGGER WARNING

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Dane

The only things Dane could hear were his own heartbeat and breathing. The thrub, thrub, thrub of his pulse echoing in his ears, throbbing in his skin, carrying Lila's name—and her imagined screams at the hands of his brother. What had Chris done to her! Where was she?

"I will kill you," he snarled through his teeth. "Tell me where she is."

"Don't be dumb right now, Dane. Think this through," Chris said through his teeth.

"Tell me where my wife is."

"You have to stop right now and listen to me, Dane," Chris's entire demeanor had changed—far from the shaking, uncertain man he'd been towards Doug, now Dane faced the bodyguard, the cool-tempered security advisor. The one who owned other men's safety and called life-and-death decisions in seconds. "She's safe," he said. "Do you hear me? She's safe. You need to listen to me, and remember everything we've ever talked about."

"I'm never listening to another word you say. Ever. You are a dead man," he seethed.

"Fascinating!" Doug said, sitting back in his chair with a wide smile. "I always wondered which of you would win in a fight. I'll be honest, my money's on you, Dane. But… well, this will be intriguing. Carry on."

Dane shuddered and his finger twitched. Chris didn't drop his gaze, but his chin raised a hair. "You know this doesn't have to end this way, Dane," he said quietly. "We're brothers. I've had your back since we were kids. Skateboards and peanut butter sandwiches, remember?" Dane's stomach punched in with that. "Remember everything? All the ways I've shown you that I'm on your side—you really think I'd kill your wife after all that? Put your gun down. Remember everything I've ever done to put you first."

"Oh, I remember," Dane rasped through panting breaths. "I remember the man who looked at my wife like he wanted her. Who threw a fit every time I did anything without telling him first. And I remember the brother who brought a plant into my business and put lives at risk, and who—"

"In Chris's defense," Doug said brightly, "Becky was my work. I actually planted her on him." He chuckled. "Your brother is a much easier mark, though harder to hit where it hurts. But I digress. My point is, he really didn't know about that, Dane. But keep going. I just thought you'd like to know."

Dane didn't take his eyes off of Chris, who's gaze never wavered. There was something ridiculous about his father in these moments—so full of delight and excitement that he couldn't help himself. All of his sickness was on display. Why wasn't Chris reacting?

Dane's breath tore in and out of his nose, his head screamed, but his hand was solid and sure on the gun.

He was going to shoot whoever it took to get out of here and make sure Lila was okay. "Where. Is. SHE?"

"You wouldn't even know her if it wasn't for me," Chris barked. "I was the one who brought her in. Think, Dane!"

"You brought her in for yourself!"

"For your business, you asshole! Think! Remember! Look back and pay fucking attention to someone else for once in your life, this isn't what it looks like! I'm telling you, she's safe."

His father snapped his head to look at Chris, and that gave Dane more pause than Chris's words. But he wasn't going to be fooled. Or swayed. He just needed to find out where she was, then he was going to pull the trigger.

"Tell me where you left her, or—"

"She's completely safe and she knows I'm here. She listened to me, Dane. She understands that I'm not doing what you think I'm doing. Think, dammit. We've been through this!"

"We've been through lies and deceit and your fucking attempts to take over everything—my business, my wife. I'm done, Chris. You're a traitor, and probably just as much of a psychopath as Dad, but at least he owns it!"

"Think, Dane! We talked about this—you know what this is about!"

"There's nothing you can say that's going to make me believe you are capable of anything worthwhile to anyone but yourself. Tell me where my fucking wife is, Chris, or I swear to God I will pull this trigger."

"And I'm supposed to believe if I tell you, you won't?"

"The difference is whether you get to feel yourself die, or not."

"Oh!" Doug chimed in. "Good one, Dane!"

"Shut the fuck up, Dad!" Dane snarled. "I swear to God—"

"Calm down," Chris said quietly. "Think."

"Would you stop telling me to think! I've seen it all clearly and I know what you're doing, and I'm done with this! It's time to get this finished once and for all! The only question is which of us is going to pull the trigger first!"

Slowly, slowly, Chris smiled. "You always did wear your heart on your sleeve, big brother," he murmured.

Dane sucked in and time slowed as his entire body went rigid. He opened his mouth to scream as his finger tightened and he braced for the kick of the handgun, braced for the front-row view he was about to get of brains all over the floor.

Doug was turning to look at Chris, surprise on his features which Dane had never seen before.

Chris's free hand was coming up and his mouth moved, he screamed through bared teeth, "I'm not here for you!" and, impossibly, pulled his gun away.

Dane sucked in a breath as Chris's arm and head snapped to his right, directly at Doug, and he pulled the trigger in a flash of noise and smoke that left Dane's ears ringing, and his eyes watering.

There was a strange sound from behind his father's desk, quickly followed by the heavy thud of a man-sized weight hitting the arm of the chair, then tumbling off to the floor.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

Holy fucking shit.

Chris just shot his father.