Chapter 254 - 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.
The reality of it, the horrifying, irreversible finality, crashed down on Ryan. "Byron!" The name was a strangled cry, torn from his soul. He dropped his pistol, the clatter of it on the stones unnoticed, and scrambled to his brother’s side. He knelt in the dust and grime, gathering Byron’s upper body into his arms, cradling his head. "Byron, what did you do?" he pleaded, his voice breaking, tears blurring his vision. "You fool, what have you done?"
Byron coughed, a wet, rattling sound, and a weak, bloody smile curved his lips. "I told you, brother," he rasped, his voice a faint whisper, "I wouldn’t be paraded. I... I would rather die than live as a disgraced... criminal." His breath hitched, his body trembling with the shock of the wound.
Ryan, his mind refusing to accept the truth, picked up Byron’s pistol from where it had fallen beside him. His fingers felt numb as he checked the mechanism, his heart sinking with a terrible, dawning understanding. It was empty. There were no bullets left. Byron had fired all his shots before their final confrontation. The last time he had aimed at Ryan, it had been a bluff. A terrible, tragic, successful bluff to force Ryan’s hand.