Chapter 3 Gun Aimed at Lucas

Water splashed over the edge of the tub, scattering across the tiles in glittering arcs. Clifford stood there, shirt clinging to his chest, droplets running down his jaw. His eyes narrowed, not in anger, but in something more unreadable.

"Violet… what's going on?" His hand reached toward me.

I froze. My mind didn't go to the present—it went straight back to that day, the day I pulled the trigger on him. The recoil, the smell of gunpowder, the way his body jerked… it all slammed into me like a wave.

Fear took the reins. My fingers locked around the rim of the tub, knuckles whitening. I couldn't look at him. My voice broke into a pleading whisper. "Please… don't touch me. Just… let me be alone for a while."

His hand stopped midair. For a heartbeat, his gaze flickered—something complicated, something I couldn't read. Then, after a long pause, he said, simply, "Alright."

I watched his back as he walked away, a tight ache twisting in my chest as if someone was raking claws through it. The moment the door clicked shut, I slid under the water, holding myself there until the burn in my lungs forced me up. The suffocating edge of death steadied me.

Gasping, I wrapped a towel around myself and stepped into the bedroom. Clifford lay on the bed, eyes half-lidded, the lamplight carving sharp shadows along his cheekbones. I dried my hair, then moved to his side, curling against him from behind. Pressed to his warmth, I felt, for the first time that night, something solid, something safe.

Then my phone buzzed.

I scrambled to silence it, not wanting to wake him. But the glow of the screen caught my eye—Lucas.

[I'm downstairs.]

[Darling, just let me see you.]

[If you don't come down, I'll come up. I don't care if they shoot me dead.]

When my silence held, the calls began. One after another. Relentless.

Frustration boiled over. I threw on a coat and headed downstairs, determined to end this once and for all.

What I didn't know was that the moment I stepped out, Clifford's eyes opened.

It took me ten minutes to cross from the main castle to where Lucas waited. As soon as he saw me, he lunged forward, arms locking around me. "Darling… I knew you'd come."

"Lucas, let go of me." I shoved him off, putting distance between us.

His brows drew together, sensing the shift. "What happened? Did that devil force you into something again?"

He reached for my hand. I sidestepped sharply, avoiding him.

"No," I said, firm.

"Then why are you avoiding me? Is it because he's using me to threaten you? Violet, you have to know… the luckiest thing in my life is having you. I'm not afraid of anything. Just… don't treat me like this."

His voice carried a tremor, a hint of tears. Once, that would have broken me. But now that I knew who he really was, all I felt was a wave of disgust.

"You think he's using you to threaten me? Lucas… who do you think you are?"

Shock flared in his eyes. I didn't bother to read the rest of his expression. "This is the last time we meet. Don't come looking for me again. And Clifford is my husband. If I ever hear you call him a devil again… you'll regret it."

I turned to leave. "No… don't. Please, Violet, don't do this." His arms came around me from behind.

I fought against him. "Lucas, let go! I know you didn't mean what you said. I won't believe a word of it."

"Believe it or not, that's your choice. Now let go."

"I'll die before I let you go."

His grip tightened. I barely had time to brace before he shoved forward, trying to crush his mouth to mine.

"No—Lucas—Clifford—help—"

A deafening crack split the air. Lucas's scream followed, raw and sharp. I stumbled back, heart hammering, eyes darting to the sight of him clutching his ear, blood seeping between his fingers.

"Violet… help me… it hurts."

I lifted my gaze. Clifford stood in the shadows, his face carved in half-light, unreadable. My chest clenched hard, mind going blank.

He stepped closer, eyes cutting to me. "So… all that sweetness tonight was just to make me drop my guard? So you could run off with him?"

"No, that's not it. I just came to tell him—"

"Enough!" The word cracked through the air, silencing me.

I met his stare, my throat tightening. "You really don't trust me?"

His brow furrowed. Without warning, he shoved a gun into my hands, lifted my arm, and aimed it at Lucas. "Shoot."

My breath caught. The memory of aiming at Clifford before surged back, making my hands shake uncontrollably. "Clifford… I…"

"Can't do it?"

Tears welled in my eyes.

Lucas backed away, desperation spilling from him. "Don't kill me, Violet… you love me."

"My woman, and you dare touch her? You're dead."

Clifford ripped the gun from me and fired—four, five shots in rapid succession. The blasts echoed through The Gutierrez Mansion. My whole body locked tight. But when I looked at Lucas, I realized every bullet had missed. Clifford never missed unless he meant to.

He didn't want Lucas dead. Why?

"Violet's the only reason you're breathing right now," Clifford snarled, pressing the barrel to Lucas's temple. His arm trembled—not from weakness, but from restraint.

Because of me.

I remembered all the times I'd threatened my own life if Lucas died. I'd sworn I wouldn't live in a world without him. That was why even Clifford—feared across Frosthaven—couldn't kill Lucas.

"Violet… save me!"

Clifford's finger tightened on the trigger.

"Clifford!" I stepped between them, heart pounding, afraid he'd actually pull the trigger.