Chapter 19 - Blood for Blood
Eleanor's cold confidence faltered for a fraction of a second as she stared down the barrel of her own silver revolver.
She raised her chin defiantly, refusing to believe that the obedient, fragile daughter she had manipulated her entire life would actually pull the trigger.
She taunted Harper over the deafening gunfire, claiming she did not have the killer instinct required to take a life.
Eleanor smoothly raised her tactical pistol, aiming it not at Harper, but directly at the back of Vincent's head as he reloaded his weapon across the room.
Time seemed to slow down entirely in the smoky, violent sanctuary.
Harper saw her mother's finger tighten against the trigger.
Without a single tear, without a single moment of hesitation, Harper squeezed the trigger of the heavy revolver.
The massive gun kicked violently in her hands, the explosive blast momentarily deafening her.
The bullet struck Eleanor dead center in the right shoulder, shattering her collarbone and spinning her violently backward.
Eleanor's pistol fired wildly into the vaulted ceiling as she collapsed onto the cold marble floor behind the altar.
The sudden, piercing scream of the Black Rose caused the remaining mercenaries to falter in their assault.
Vincent heard the distinct crack of the revolver and instantly spun around, his weapon raised toward the altar.
Through the clearing smoke, he saw Harper standing tall, the silver gun still smoking in her steady hands, standing over the bleeding body of the underworld's greatest ghost.
Elias and the Rossi enforcers surged forward, ruthlessly executing the remaining, disoriented mercenaries until the cathedral fell into a heavy, ringing silence.
Vincent walked slowly down the ruined aisle, his boots crunching heavily on broken stained glass.
He stopped in front of Harper, his chest heaving, his gray eyes searching her exhausted, tear-stained face for any sign of deception.
Harper simply dropped the empty revolver onto the marble floor, the metal clattering loudly in the quiet church.
She looked down at Eleanor, who was clutching her bleeding shoulder and staring up at her daughter with a mixture of agony and twisted, genuine pride.
Harper looked back at Vincent and told him quietly that the Black Rose was officially dead.
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Vincent did not say a word.
He reached out, pulled her fiercely into his chest, and buried his face in her wet hair, holding her as if he would never let her go.
