Emily’s POV

The sound of the gunshot still rang in my ears, but my brain struggled to process what had just happened.

My father…Richard Hart…lay sprawled on the cold concrete floor. Blood spread from his chest, soaking into his once-neat suit. His eyes were open, but there was no life left in them.

He was dead.

I stared at his body, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. My chest felt tight, like something heavy had settled on top of it, making it impossible to breathe.

A strange, choking noise left my throat before I realized it was me.

Mateo chuckled, spinning the gun on his finger before handing it...