Through his broken heart.
The twins were edging their way towards Adele, and she was watching them out of the corner of her eye. Jack had no doubt that she'd turn the gun on them in a heartbeat if she thought she was in danger.
"Leave her be," Jack heard Tanek say to them. He'd recognised her as well, or at least a part of her. The part that must have come from him. The psycho who'd started all this in the first place. The reason they were all here today. As Adele came closer, still holding the gun out straight, Jack could see the same look in her eye now: an insane look. The look of a daughter out for revenge.
Jack gave a sad laugh. "I thought we had something there for a while."
"Oh, please," she said, then spat at him. "You were one of the men who murdered my father! How could I ever have feelings for you other than loathing?"
Jeez, do I have lousy taste in broads or what? Well, it's cost you this time, hasn't it, numbskull?
"Father?" asked The Tsar, now deeming it safe to come closer, though not before his bodyguards joined him again. "You don't mean that-"
Tanek nodded. "She is De Falaise's child." He exchanged a long look with Adele, who smiled. "The person I came here to find."
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
They'd been lies, pure and simple.
No two ways about it. Tate had lured her here under false pretences, as she'd told him repeatedly. When the message had reached her about the approaching army, one that apparently made De Falaise's look like a joke, she'd leaped at the opportunity to come to the castle for more weapons. If the soldiers passed through New Hope, then her people would need all the help they could get. It wasn't as if Robert was using them, was it? Gwen had to admit she'd been puzzled as to why they were suddenly going to give them to her, after denying them for so long, but she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Telling Andy, Darryl, Graham and the others that she'd be back soon, she'd headed off for Nottingham with Clive Jr.
When she'd driven back through the gates and found the Reverend, he'd stalled her to begin with by offering her food and drink after her journey, then insisted that they should stay at the castle overnight as it was growing late. It was then that she discovered Robert and a good chunk of his men had gone off to meet The Tsar's forces, taking with them only rudimentary weapons.
"He's completely crackers, you do know that?" Gwen told Tate.
The Reverend said nothing, no doubt thinking God would be on the man's side. Oh well, it was his funeral — and it meant that there would be more real weapons for her to take back with her (and they'd damned well need them after Robert had finished agitating The Tsar). When she discovered that would not be the case, Gwen went ballistic.
She argued with Tate until she was blue in the face, but he refused to see reason.
"Is this about what happened before?" Gwen asked him. "About how you left me here?"
"I didn't…" Tate began, then bit his tongue. "I wanted to come sooner, but-"
"But you didn't because of Robert, right? Meanwhile that lunatic Frenchman was…" Gwen's eyes hardened, the memories too painful. "You want to help me, salve your conscience? You give me those weapons and let me return right now."
That hadn't happened, of course, and they'd been in the process of discussing it yet again when Mary and Jack had joined them. Apparently the army was coming to the castle. Robert's men had hardly slowed them at all. Tate had screwed up again, and he knew it. Now she and her baby had been placed right in the firing line, when she'd probably have been much safer back home.
There was a part of her that recognised Tate had only been doing what he thought best, that he genuinely did care about her. But he'd deliberately misled her and for that she would never forgive him. If only to protect Clive Jr, she'd done as he'd asked when he'd told her to go and wait in one of the bedrooms, while outside she could hear explosions and gunfire.
Gwen had sat there holding her child, telling him everything was going to be alright, but knowing that it really wasn't. He's placed you in so much danger, little Clive, Gwen said to herself, looking down at her son. What in Heaven's name was he thinking?
She peeked out of the window, and it was then that it happened. Something hit the side of the castle. The whole room shook and she grabbed Clive Jr, dashing out as quickly as she could. Gwen ran back up along the corridor, desperate to find somewhere safe. She'd brought a machine gun with her in case she'd been attacked on the journey, but that was in her jeep. Luckily, she'd kept her pistol about her person, in spite of the 'rules', which she didn't give a shit about. If Mary could break them just because of some sentimental rubbish, so could she.
Gwen reached around and pulled the gun out, tucked away in the back of her jeans, under her baggy jumper. No sooner had she done so than she heard voices below her, heading up the stairs. Russian voices.
She backed away, but Clive chose that particular moment to start crying. Gwen shushed him, but he cried all the more. She turned to run, only to crash into a figure that appeared in front of her.
The man was wearing dark red robes, a hood pulled up over his head. In his hand he held a lethal-looking blade.
He was not alone. There were two more dressed just like him. Gwen knew who they were. Members of the cult Robert had told Tate about. What they were doing here was another matter. She'd been expecting to see soldiers, not religious fanatics.
It wasn't important. All that mattered was they meant her and her son harm. Gwen raised the handgun. None of them even twitched.
"Don't move!" Gwen warned them.
The first, the closest, raised his hand.
"I said don't you fucking move! I'm not afraid to use this thing." She meant every word. It wasn't like the first time she'd held it, when she'd made her first kilclass="underline" shooting the bastard who'd murdered her beloved Clive. She'd hesitated then, but she wouldn't now.
It didn't stop the cultist from continuing to raise his hand, peeling back the hood to show her his face, painted to look like a skull, a tattoo on his forehead, the one Robert had described. That fazed her momentarily.
But then the cultist on the right rushed forward, raising his machete. Gwen fired — twice — hitting him in the chest. He dropped to the floor, blood pooling around him.
The taller one, Skullface, looked down slowly at his fallen comrade. But if he was angry or upset by the man's demise he hid it well.
Gwen heard noises behind her. The soldiers! She'd forgotten all about them. And, as she pivoted, she saw uniformed men holding automatics, training them in her direction. Holding Clive Jr in the crook of her arm, she fired the gun with her other hand, causing the little one to cry out even louder. Gwen hit the first soldier in the neck and a red spray jetted powerfully out of the wound.
As Gwen spun round again, aware that she'd taken her eye off the cultists, she saw the man rushing forward, brandishing his machete. It connected with the end of her pistol and sent it flying out of her hand, over the rail of the stairs to fall somewhere below.
Now she was defenceless.
Gwen saw the machete blade rise again. "No, please," she implored. "Spare my son."
The robed figure didn't answer, but Skullface stepped forward, looking down at the crying child she was holding — and he cocked his head.
Yes, that's it. That's right. See Clive Jr as a person. See him as a person who could grow up and have so much potential, who could do so many things in this shitty world we've found ourselves in. So much good. Yes, that's it. See him. Really see him.