Chapter Two Hundred And Fifty Four

Bang!

Bang!!

The two gunshots, fired almost simultaneously, ripped through the dead air of the ruined chapel, their roar a deafening, final declaration. For a heart-stopping second, the world seemed to freeze.

"Your Grace!" Davis's terrified shout broke the aftermath silence. He sprinted forward from his position, his pistol forgotten, his face a mask of pure dread.

Ryan stood, unmoving, his own pistol still extended, smoke curling from its barrel. He was shocked, his mind a numb void, his ears ringing. He looked down at himself, a part of him expecting to see a blossoming red stain on his own chest, but there was nothing. He was alive. He was unharmed.

Then, his gaze snapped to his brother.

Byron was on the floor. He had crumpled to the stone, a dark, rapidly spreading patch on his chest marking where Ryan's bullet had found its home. A trickle of blood spilled from the corner of his mouth, crimson against his pale skin.