Chapter 117: Last Shot

Chapter 117: Last Shot           Bartholomew's face contorted into desperation as Grace  began to advance with knives in both hands. His blood-slicked arm clutched the armrest while the other remained limp, useless after the first gunshot. His authority which was once so absolute, had fractured and was no longer the terrifying figure looming above all, he now looked small, weak. Mortal.   "Marco—" he barked hoarsely. "Marco, do something!"   His voice cracked, laced with panic, rising above the hush that had settled over the room like smoke. Grace didn't stop. Her boots thudded softly against the polished floor with each step. Her eyes locked onto her prey, and this time there was no hesitation, no softness left in her. She was no longer the girl begging to be seen.   "Marco!" Bartholomew shouted again. "She's going to kill me! Stop her!"   But Marco stood still while his grip on his own weapon slackened. His mind refused to keep up with what his eyes were witnessing. The woman standin