Chapter 23: Léonie - Crushing His Mountain Flower

At my insistence, Mano ordered the remaining guards to patrol the house, make sure no one had gotten inside, even though I couldn’t see how that was possible.

“How dare she use the code!” Mano gritted out. “What the hell was she thinking with Réjean out there?”

Hugo was moving very fast with his new cane.

“Mme has always had a—very rigid idea of how the Bastides should behave, and I very much fear⁠—”

And he said no more, but only moved faster until we stood at the door to her suites.

Hugo put a finger to his lips and Mano nodded, pulling out a tiny, slim length of steel.

Then he placed it at the edge of the door and there was a crack.

Hugo pulled it open, and through the wild staccato of my heart I saw the back of my brother Réjean, hips thrusting as he pounded into Placidie from behind.

“Merde and fucking hell,” Mano swore, and he charged toward them.

Réjean barely changed expression, his cock still buried deep in my mother-in-law as he drew out a pistol and shot Mano.

My brother-in-law staggered sideways, then fell to his knees as a murderous bloom of blood burst through his shirt.

“Stay back, the two of you,” Réjean warned as he cocked the gun at Mano’s skull.

There was blood soaking through Mano’s shoulder, but I couldn’t see his face.

Was he going to die here?

What the hell were these two rivals doing in bed together?

And how had I been blind for so long to the fact that my family saw me only as a bargaining chip? My virginity as something that could be sold off?

“What are you doing with him?” I cried as Hugo took a few careful, sideways steps toward his mother. “You know he wants to kill Étienne!”

“Let him,” Placidie said, and I looked into her bitter brown eyes, and it was like all the sanity had receded out of them.

“All my sons are dead to me. Every single one of them is weak. Hugo with his leg—Mano unable to beat his brother, and Étienne, Étienne my darling, brought down by a wet and sloppy cunt. Carving léger into his own forehead—he could never come back with me after that. So why not let Réjean take it over—burn the whole place and give me more sons. Sons who will be strong this time.”

“You’re fucking insane. He will kill you.”

“Give it up,” Hugo warned as Réjean shoved Placidie aside with an audible pop. “Étienne will be heading home soon. You won’t get away with this.”

My brother snorted.

“I’m in his home, with his whole family under my power. I can get away with anything I want.”

There was a bulge in Mano’s back pocket, and I know he had a gun there.

If I could just get to it. . .if I could distract him. . .

“Where is Gran, Réjean? What did you and Da do with her?”

He flicked his eyes back to me.

Why should I tell my whore sister anything?”

But I was past there being any bitter sting in that word.

“Where is she buried?”

He shrugged. “She’s where all mouthy women go—to live with the ancestors. You, Léonie, you were supposed to keep Étienne interested with your cunt. You’ve failed.”

“Come away from him,” Hugo was trying to coax his mother away. “This is wrong, Mme. You cannot want to betray your family like this.”

But she was unglued, slapping at him.

“My family are all dead to me, without honor we are nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! And soft men are nothing to me.”

She had a knife in her hand, slashing at him and forcing Hugo to stumble sideways to avoid it.

“Calm down, bitch,” Réjean snarled, trying to drag her away, and in that moment I reached in Mano’s back pocket and pulled out a gun.

“You have no lands to return to,” I said, hiding it behind my back.

I knew how to shoot this, didn’t I? My fingers were slick on the cool steel.

“I tried to kill you before, you know,” Placidie said in an artificially chipper tone as she straightened her skirt. “I can’t abide weakness. But, for some reason, one of your god-damned brothers was always around.”

From her tone, you would have thought she was discussing the menu for a picnic instead of cold-blooded murder.

“Shoot him, Réjean,” she said. “It would give me pleasure to see him die in front of me.”

My brother shrugged, dropping Mano’s limp body to the ground. Then he aimed the gun at Hugo.

The blood rushed into my ears in a great, thundering storm and I pointed my gun at Réjean with trembling fingers. And shot him.

The bullet missed his chest, but buried itself deep in the flesh of his upper arm. Réjean roared in rage as his gun clattered away on the marble flooring, and Placidie picked up a heavy vase, like she was going to hit Hugo with it.

He put one hand out to block her blow, and the vase slipped from her fingers and landed, in horrifying slow-motion, directly on her skull.

“Give it up,” I screamed at Réjean as he advanced on me and ripped the gun from my hand. “You won’t succeed. My husband won’t let you.”

Réjean snorted.

“Étienne can’t outthink me. You weren’t there when he was negotiating your bride-price. He was weak. You could smell his desperation to marry you. Da took him for all he could and Étienne barely made a peep. Maybe the rest of my family is dead, but I’ll be able to take over the Bastides. Your husband went belly-up.”

Réjean aimed a blow at my skull, like he was going to pistol-whip me, and I stumbled backwards, almost falling before a strong hand gripped me and set me on my feet again.

“I laid down belly-up because I’d do anything to keep Léonie. You confused that for weakness.”

Étienne didn’t hesitate.

He stabbed Réjean in the gut and tore him open.

As my brother blinked in confusion, Étienne kicked his body backwards and spat on his forehead.

Then he whirled toward me.

“Léonie! Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”

Hugo was stumbling toward Mano, checking his throat for a pulse.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.”

Étienne slammed his fist into the wall as he looked at the bloody, broken bodies of Placidie and Réjean.

“I enabled this. I should have foreseen it. I swear to all the ancestors, Léonie, that I thought your family would be furious at me. That they’d want to protect you.”

“That was foolish,” I said. “I could have told you they didn’t have the regard for me you thought. If you’d only asked me.”

He pulled me into his arms.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. All this fucking bullshit about our family honor—it went too far. No more. No more. We aren’t doing this shit anymore.”

He smelled wild but comforting, his strong arms around me and I almost melted into them. . .

Who knows what would have happened if I hadn’t been on edge, if some deep mother-instinct hadn’t made me sensitive to sounds.

But I heard, from somewhere in the other wing. . . a thump. Like a door opening and shutting.

And some primal sense of danger prickled my skin and I turned and raced from the room.

As soon as I moved my husband was already running too, his speed outpacing mine as we ran toward Ciel’s room.

There were screams from somewhere in the house. The sound of a revving engine.

But my baby had been safely asleep—Réjean hadn’t been in here—Placidie was dead⁠—

And then, his room—the door—stumbling inside to find⁠—

The crib was empty.