Montana Falls (Red Diamonds #5)

Chapter Twenty Nine

T he club was dim, save for the faint, flickering neon lights casting ghostly glows across the room. The curtains had been shut the other night and nobody had opened them, so all the sunlight was trapped behind the thick velvet, making the entire place feel a little eerie.

My breath came out shallow and quick as I stood there, gun aimed at my head, life in someone else’s hands.

Retta’s eyes darkened as I said my name, but she said nothing, her lips pressed into a thin, unforgiving line. I wanted her to say something, anything, but she stayed stone-faced.

My heart pounded in my chest, blood roaring in my ears.

She took a step toward me, calm, deliberate. The gun in her hand didn’t waver. There was something terrifying in her stillness, her calculated control. I hated her for it.

“You really are just like all the other Montana’s aren’t you?”

“Yes.” I bared my teeth in a smile. “I am like all of them from my looks to my soul. The same way you are just like your daddy.”

She fucking trembled at that. A shiver of pure hatred and disgust rolling throughout her body.

“I’m nothing like that monster.”

“Yeah? Then why did you let Elaina take Misha?” I pushed, desperate to piss her off and give myself an opening to get the gun. “You let your brother’s wife touch him. Hurt him.”

Talking about it made me sick to my stomach and angry. But I kind of hoped it would do the same to Retta, so I kept going regardless of how much I hurt myself.

“You let your brother order his men to do the same things to me.” I spat. “I was a kid, and you let them touch me. You let them put their hands on my skin and-”

For the first time in my life, I went into graphic detail about one of the worst nights of my life. I described every touch, every feeling, every ounce of agony and horridness that had happened to me the night my mama died.

I told Retta everything that happened and blamed her all for it, purely out of spite and because each word hit her like a blade, making her flinch.

“I didn’t do that.” Her voice broke as she violently shook her head. “No. No. No. I would never . I would-”

And then I saw it—a tiny opening. She had let her guard down just enough for me to move and her gun wasn’t aimed at me, but at the space beside me. Without another thought, I lunged at her. I tackled her with everything I had, my body crashing into hers, both of us tumbling to the ground. We hit the floor of the stage hard, the impact jarring, but I didn’t care. I was too angry to care. Too fucking lost in my grief, trauma, pain, and everything else to give a single damn about what happened to me so long as I won in the end.

We rolled across the floor, fighting, grappling for control. I was far more skilled than she was, and I was clearly stronger. But she was rabid, almost with her fighting. She played dirty and didn’t give a fuck about anything other than winning, so it wasn’t as easy as I would have liked to pin her.

Even when I smashed her head against the ground, trying to hold her beneath me so I could wrap my hands around her neck, she just took the blow like it was nothing. Like she didn’t even feel it. The shock of it made me stutter, and she shoved me hard. I stumbled back, losing my grip and slamming down onto the stage, cracking my head against it hard enough that I saw stars.

In that moment, she moved—faster than I could react—and grabbed the gun off the floor. She straightened, the weapon now trained on me, her eyes cold as ever.

“Kneel,” she commanded, her voice eerily calm.

I glared at her, my chest heaving, my body shaking with anger. I was still on the floor, but I refused to obey. I refused to kneel for her .

“No,” I whispered, then louder, “No.”

I forced myself to my feet, every muscle in my body screaming in protest as the world span and my brain felt like it throbbed, but I stood tall. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing me weak. If I was going to die, I would die standing.

In that moment, a strange sense of calm washed over me. I thought of my daddy. My mama. The two people who had shaped me, raised me, made me who I was. It felt like they were here with me now, their presence warm and steady, like a hand resting gently on my shoulder. I could almost hear their voices, whispering promises, praise. Telling me to be brave.

“I’m not afraid,” I said softly, meeting Retta’s eyes. “I’m not alone. If I die today, I’ll see my parents again. I’ll see Uncle Mal. I’m not afraid of that. Or you – I won’t ever be afraid of you again.”

My throat tightened, and I felt the tears well up in my eyes, spilling over. I closed my eyes for just a moment, feeling the weight of everything crashing down on me. In my mind, I heard my daddy’s voice— be brave, angel —and I took a deep, steadying breath.

The sound of the gun’s safety clicking off echoed in the silence. I flinched, instinctively bracing for the shot coming my way any second now.

What came was far worse.

“Mom?” Misha’s broken voice cut through the air like a knife.

I opened my eyes, my heart pounding in my chest. He stood near the club’s entrance, a few feet away from Price, holding a gun. His hands were steady, but there was something raw and broken in his eyes as he looked at Retta.

As he pointed a gun at his mother. Something that took Price a moment longer to do.

Retta didn’t move. She didn’t say anything, but I could see the slightest flicker of emotion in her eyes as she looked at her youngest son.

“She’s Cassie.” I said simply. “I know it is ridiculous but-”

“I believe you, sweetheart.” He breathed. “Lincoln explained things to me outside when he picked us up after the car crashed.”

He finished his sentence as Kody and Lincoln joined the party, both holding guns, both aimed at Retta.

Lincoln wasn’t hesitant like Misha. Lincoln wasn’t unsure, or trembling, or… or crying.

“Logan?” I asked him, unable to say anything more than that, even if I wondered who the fuck had crashed a car and how.

“He’s gonna be fine, don’t worry, princess.” Lincoln answered as he kept his eyes on his mother. “He survived the blast, but broke both of his legs – everyone we care about is gonna be okay,” he promised, and relief surged through me hard enough to make me tremble. “It’s not what you wanted, is it, mom ? You wanted all of us to die.”

Retta shook her head, but her grip on her weapon was firm. “I was dying too… I was meant to be there so I could… we could…” she panted as she trailed off, head still bobbing.

“Step away from Sapphire,” Misha said, his voice cold and steady as I noticed he used his non-dominant hand with his gun, and I frowned, wondering how badly injured he was.

Retta’s grip on the gun tightened, but she didn’t shoot it. For the first time, she seemed… uncertain. I could see the tension in her, the conflict, but she didn’t make a move.

I stood there, my chest heaving, tears still running down my cheeks, watching as Misha faced off against his mother. My heart ached for him. For all of them. But I had no time to think too hard about it because Retta dropped her gun. She let it slide out of her hand, and I immediately pounced, snatching it up and pointing it her way instead.

“Put your guns down.” I told the others, knowing they could not do what needed to be done.

Knowing I was the only one who could end things, even if it would hurt.

I wanted her dead. I wanted her tortured for weeks on end until she begged me for death and then I wouldn’t let her have it.

I wanted to break her over and over again just like she had done to me. I wanted to make her a prisoner in my dungeon and ruin everything about her until she was nothing but a hollow shell of the woman she used to be.

I wanted to be her nightmare for the next few years until I grew bored with playing the game of revenge, then finally killed her.

But I wouldn’t do that. I couldn’t do that to Retta – to the men I love’s mother.

I also couldn’t let her go.

“Get on your knees.” Tears burned down my cheeks as I raised my gun, lining it up with the face of someone I had never once thought could betray me.

Someone I loved.

Someone I let into my home.

Someone I let hold me as they whispered promises that everything was okay – that I was safe.

Someone who had comforted me as I sobbed over my daddy’s death, like they hadn’t pulled the trigger.

“Sapphire.” Kody said my name, but I ignored him. I had to ignore him and whatever it was he was trying to say.

Retta didn’t move. Or Cassie. Whatever the fuck she wanted to be called. She just stared at me like I held the meaning to the universe or something and she couldn’t wait to see all my secrets.

“I loved you.” She said simply. “You saved me and I loved you for it – protected you… and this is the thanks I get?”

“No.” My jaw tensed. “Love isn’t this – love isn’t whatever you’ve been doing to me since I was born.”

“But-”

“But nothing.” I cut her off. “Every time you said you cared for me; it was a lie. And as fun as it would be to listen to all the twisted reasons you did what you did, I don’t want to.” Tears still fell, stronger with each word that left my lips. “I don’t owe you anything, Cassie . I don’t have to hear you out.”

She nodded, lips pursing.

“What now then?”

“Now you get on your knees.” I ordered again, stepping closer.

“You’d kill your boyfriend’s mother?”

“Yes.” I didn’t hesitate, even if the words tasted like poison. “I’d kill the woman who ruined my life, even if it takes more people I love from me.”

Her eyes got impossibly darker. “They can’t mean that much to you if you’d lose them for me.”

“It’s not for you. It’s for me . My mama, my daddy.” My hand shook a little. “It’s for Maggie, and grandpa, and everyone else you’ve hurt. It’s for the people whose lives you’ve ruined and it’s for… it’s for Malone . For the man you vowed to love as part of your lies.”

“I did love him.” She laughed without humor as tears fell from her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. “Retta loved him. He was an accident… we didn’t even mean to meet him. We only wanted to see if he missed Maggie as much as we did and then he was just so nice and… and then he happened.” She waved toward Lincoln.

My finger locked on the trigger, and I lined up my sight, ignoring the murmurs behind me. Ignoring the people I loved and everything that it meant. Ignoring the worry I had about the aftermath of what would happen once I’d killed my boyfriend’s mother, right in front of their fucking faces.

Ignoring the fact that I wasn’t about to end the O’Malley line.

I was in love with two of them and I would kill anyone who hurt them, I would never try to do it myself.

For a single second I wondered if my mama and daddy would hate me for it. Dor daring to love the blood of our greatest enemies.

For a single second I heard nothing but my mama’s screams as John O’Malley’s cruelness shattered her into a million pieces she never got back.

Then I remembered her smile. Her laugh. The way she told me she loved me no matter what.

I remembered how she smiled at me as I killed her. I remembered how my daddy looked at me as he died for me. And I knew I had my answer. I knew that both my parents would not care who I loved so long as they were good – so long as they loved me the way I deserved to be loved.

And they did. They always would.

“I did love you; you know,” Retta whispered, eyes wide as she stared at her sons. “There was a reason I could never hurt you – why, even when I wasn’t in control, I couldn’t lay a hand on either of you.”

Nobody responded to her, and I didn’t have the guts to turn around and look at my boys.

“I’m sorry.” She cried. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be Retta – I was always Cassie when it came down to it and Cassie would never stop.”

She made her worst choice again as she stopped speaking to both of her boys, concentrating on the one person who meant everything to her, far more than I or Maggie ever had.

The one she would never have killed, regardless of what he did.

Retta swallowed hard as she reached out to her youngest son, pleading almost.

“You remind me of my husband; he was always kind and hated violence.” She breathed. “Misha, I really do love-”

And just like that, the choice was taken from me.

The vengeance I had suffered for was stolen away in a single gunshot and second of time.

Retta’s eyes flickered, a flash of something unnaturally soft before she dropped to the ground, blood pouring from the single hole in her chest, right over her heart. She gasped, her breath hitching, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow. Her body swayed, her face contorting in pain, and then, with a final, dramatic gasp, she fell. Backwards. Onto the center of the stage.

Onto the same spot my daddy had fallen when she’d cruelly stolen him from me for nothing more than his surname.

The thud of her body hitting the ground was sickening, and I felt my knees buckle beneath me. With a scream tearing from my lips, I collapsed, the gun slipping from my hands, my body shaking as I stared at Retta’s lifeless body lay crumpled on the floor, the blood pouring freely. Her eyes still wide and seeing. Blonde hair staining red.

It was over .

It was finally over.

But the relief I should have felt didn’t come. Instead, all I felt was a hollow ache in my chest, a deep, gnawing sorrow that threatened to consume me because of one horrible, horrible thing I saw when I turned to my men.

“Misha.” Lincoln slowly approached his brother, tears streaming down both their cheeks, as harshly as mine. “Give me the gun.”

Misha didn’t blink. Didn’t speak. He just held the gun in his hand, still aimed at his mother.

Still pointing right where he’d shot her… killed her…

My sobs came in sharp gasps as I knelt there on the cold, hard floor. I could barely breathe. My chest felt tight, my heart shattered into a million pieces. I had loved Retta. I had trusted her. She had been a part of my family. But she truly was his family.

She was his mother and… Misha… Misha had pulled the trigger that took her life.

“Misha…” My voice cracked, barely a whisper. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, though I wasn’t sure if I was apologizing to him or for my lack of action.

I should have killed her sooner. Faster . I should have taken that guilt and burden on my soul because he didn’t deserve it. None of them deserved it, but especially him.

Lincoln took the gun from him, switching the safety on before he stuck it in the back of trousers and wrapped his arms around his brother, as the other guys made their way to me.

Only then did Misha crack his silence. His gasping cries poured out as his knees buckled, and he sobbed into Lincoln’s shoulder. Only then did I scream and sob and curse to high heaven, as Kody and Price wrapped me in their arms and whispered things I couldn’t even hear.

I didn’t know how long I sat there, Retta’s blood quickly soaking my dress and skin.

I didn’t know how long I cried and screamed and… and felt nothing but pain.

Did it make me selfish to be glad I didn’t have to kill her? Did it make me horrible that I was relieved that one of the Leroux boys had taken away that horrific decision, and saved me from a lifetime of wondering if they secretly hated me?

Did it make me selfish that I didn’t get up to comfort Misha because I was too busy being so fucking relieved that things were over?

Cassie was gone. My stalker was gone.

My daddy’s death had been avenged, as had all the others she’d committed.

I was sorry for what my great grandfather had done to her. I was sorry for the innocent little girl she had once been. And I was sorry for Retta Leroux – a woman I loved and considered family. I wasn’t sorry for the fact that my stalker was dead and the one responsible for ruining my life over and over again was now permanently unable to touch.

I wasn’t sorry that I was… I was free . I was finally free. From the fear. The pain. The vengeance.

I was just Sapphire now. The girl with the gang and the abundance of goals in life she wanted to achieve once she paid for a brilliant therapist and fought through all of her trauma. I wasn’t a victim anymore, waiting for her monster to come back and play another round.

I was just me and I would find a way to survive whatever consequences this horrible night had.