Chapter 97: The Bargain
"Are we close?"
"I think so...stay on alert."
The townhouse was at the end of a quiet Brooklyn street, it had an elegant brick exterior showing nothing of the mees that was within.
The neighborhood was weirdly silent, they didn’t like that. Everything was way too still than they’d imagined it.
Diane’s pulse pounded in her ears as she stepped out of the car, Gabriel right beside her.
Riot and Micha pulled up seconds later, dragging a barely conscious Adrian from the backseat.
But Diane wasn’t focused on any of them.
Her entire being was locked onto one thought.
Arthur was in there.
Rachel had made sure of it.
The front door was slightly open like a quick invitation or more like a warning wrapped in a dare.
Gabriel shook his head, feeling the pressure come into his brain.
"She’s expecting us."
"Of course she is," Micha murmured, cracking his neck. "She should have loved a dramatic finale."
Riot’s grip on Adrian tightened as he yanked him forward.
"If she’s got the kid, we’re not playing games."
Adrian let out a low, bitter chuckle despite the blood trickling down his lip.
"Oh, you think you’re the ones in control here?" He grinned, his teeth stained red.
"You have no idea what you’ve walked into."
Diane clenched her fists. "Then let’s find out."
She didn’t wait for them. She stepped forward, pushing the door open fully.
The moment she did, she heard it.
Rachel’s voice.
"One more step and he dies."
Diane froze.
Inside, the room looked with a very low light, a single chandelier shared some golden light over the polished floors.
Rachel, of course, was standing in the center, dressed in an expensive silk blouse and slacks, looking every bit the woman she had once been—the woman who had played the role of high-society wife with perfection.
But her eyes—her eyes were wild.
And in her arms—
Arthur.
Her brother.
His small body was pressed against Rachel’s side, his face looked too pale, his eyes wide with fear.
Rachel’s grip was too tight, fingers digging into his arm. And in her other hand—
A gun.
Diane’s blood ran cold.
Gabriel stepped in beside her, so solid, confident.
Riot and Micha flanked them, their eyes locked onto the weapon.
Rachel’s smile was slow, victorious. "Oh, look. The whole gang’s here."
Diane’s voice came out calm, controlled. "Rachel. Let him go."
Rachel lifted her head, her fingers twitched against the trigger. "No."
Diane’s jaw tightened. "You don’t want to do this."
Rachel laughed, strictly and bitter. "Don’t I?"
Her grip on Arthur tightened, making him flinch.
Diane’s entire body screamed to move, to run forward and rip him away from her.
But one wrong move—one move of Rachel’s wrist—
Rachel’s smile turned sickly sweet. "You think you’ve won, don’t you?"
Diane kept her voice stable. "There is no winning here, Rachel."
Rachel scoffed.
"Bitcu, please. Don’t act like you’re above this." She glanced at Gabriel, then Riot, then Micha.
"All of you. You pretend you’re better than me. But you’re not."
Gabriel took a slow step forward. "Rachel—"
Rachel snapped the gun toward him instantly. "Move again and I shoot him."
Gabriel stopped.
Diane’s heart pounded so loudly she could barely hear anything else.
Rachel let out a strong, heavy sigh, her hand trembled a little.
"You took everything from me." Her voice was hushed. "My marriage. My money. My son."
Diane’s voice softened, despite the madness in her veins.
"Arthur isn’t a trophy, Rachel. He isn’t something to be won."
Rachel let out a shaky breath. "He’s mine."
Diane’s chest ached at the sheer desperation in those words.
"You don’t want to do this," she said again, gentler now. "You love him."
Rachel’s expression twisted, as if she wanted to deny it, but couldn’t. Her grip on the gun got a bit lighter.
It was barely a hesitation.
But it was enough.
Gabriel moved first—fast, quicker than a squirrel.
Rachel saw it, her eyes went wide—
The gun fired.
*Poof!*
Diane’s world tilted, her breath caught as she lunged forward—
And then—
Rachel was on the ground.
Arthur was in Gabriel’s arms.
The gun clattered across the floor, sliding to a stop at Diane’s feet.
Rachel gasped, her hands clutching at her side, her silk blouse blooming with red.
Diane fell to her knees beside her, her pulse hammering. "Rachel—"
Rachel coughed, her eyes darting wildly. "He’s mine," she choked out.
Diane swallowed hard. "Not like this."
Rachel’s breaths came in sharp gasps.
"You—" She let out a weak, bitter laugh. "You always win, don’t you?"
Diane looked down at her, the anger drained from her limbs.
There was no satisfaction in this.
No victory. Just a woman who had been consumed by her own bitterness.
Rachel’s hand reached out, her fingers brushed against Diane’s wrist.
Her voice dropped to a long hush.
"I never wanted to lose him."
Diane’s throat tightened.
"I know," she whispered back.
Rachel exhaled one last, trembling breath—then went still.
Silence.
A horrible, heavy silence.
Diane felt a hand on her shoulder.
Gabriel’s hole was grounding her.
She closed her eyes, inhaling before forcing herself to stand.
Arthur clung to Gabriel’s shirt, his small fingers gripped the fabric so tightly his hands were white.
He hadn’t made a sound through any of it.
Diane reached out, gently brushing his hair back.
"Sweetheart," she whispered.
Arthur finally looked at her. His eyes were wet, his face streaked with silent tears.
Diane’s chest ached. "It’s okay," she murmured, cupping his cheek. "You’re safe now."
Arthur didn’t say anything. He just pressed his face into Gabriel’s shoulder, his small body couldn’t stop shaking.
His mother...the woman who gave birth to him, the woman who loved him was now gone...
Gabriel’s jaw clenched as he wrapped a protective arm around him.
"Let’s get him home."
Diane nodded, swallowing past the lump in her throat.
She looked back at Rachel one last time.
Then she turned away. "See you in my next life..."
Rachel had lost.
But somehow, it still didn’t feel like a win.