Veil of Deception: The Replacement wife

Dig

Alex Pov:
"Look what I have." he explained hold a small black device in his hand.
"A detonator wired to a kids hospital the bomb covered in fingerprints of ours planted." he mocks.

I had to be fast. I had to create a distraction that would give me the opening they needed without giving Vincent a reason to press the detonator.

"You're a narcissist, Vincent," I said, my voice dropping to a calm yet transferred to a mocking tone. "You talk about respect, but you're a coward. You have a detonator and an unconscious bodyguard, and you still won't stand toe-to-toe with me." I say as I take one deliberate step forward, testing the boundary.

Vincent's smile twitched in evil the calm facade finally beginning to crack under the deliberate taunt. He tightened his grip on the remote. "I've learned from your mistakes, Alexander. I don't fight fair. I win."

"No," I countered taking a second undeniably bolder step. "You don't win. You cheat. And that's why Dad never trusted you with anything more than the basement."

It was a low blow, designed to provoke a blinding rage, and it worked. Vincent's face contorted in rage, his teeth bared in a snarl instantly. "You think you're so smart!" Vincent screamed, his composure finally shattering. He lifted the remote, his thumb hovering above the button.

At that precise moment, a sound louder than the bomb, louder than Vincent's scream, split the night.

The sound of a heavy caliber round impacting stone, sending a spray of ancient mortar and dust against the far wall near the altar.

Leaving a thick white cloud of dust.

Vincent instinctively flinched, his focus momentarily pulled to the sudden intrusion. He didn't press the button.

I moved with the speed of a striking viper, my body hurtling across the remaining distance, tearing into Vincent body tackling him to the ground.

"You're making a big mistake," I muttered, my gaze shifting from Vincent to the gunman in front of me.

Vincent shoved me back with surprising force, his eyes blazing with fury. "Enough games! I'm tired of waiting for your pathetic fall, Alex! If you want to see her again, you're going to give me exactly what I want: power!"

Vincent strode to the corner where a shovel had been placed the small, rusted shovel leaning against a ruined pew and threw it at Scarlet's feet.

"You," Vincent snarled at Scarlet, his voice thick with malicious triumph. "You think you're so pure, so untouchable? You're going to dig your husband's grave, right here, right now. Hurry up, before I decide to press the little red button on this remote."

He cuts her lose as the gunman aims right at me.
Her hands were free, but he held the knife now to her throat, backing up the threat.

He stops grinding as he watches her.

With a trembling sigh that didn't sound like fear, but cold obedience, Scarlet leaned down. She grabbed the shovel, her eyes never leaving Vincent. She was weak, she was bleeding.

The voices of my backup team outside were growing louder, but they needed a clear shot or a major diversion.
Scarlet began to dig, the metal blade scraping against the dry dirt the floor of the old church rotted away she was only lifting only loose dirt, old mortar, and grave soil. I watched her, heartbroken, knowing this was just one more layer of his psychological torture.

"Faster, sister!" Vincent barked, enjoying the show.
"Alex is getting impatient to take his dirt nap!"

Scarlet lifted the shovel,  plunging the blade deep into the loose debris at the base of the crumbling earth.

Instead of lifting more dirt out of the "grave," she used the shovel like a lever, sweeping up a massive cloud of loose, powdery grit and dirt and throwing it directly into Vincent's face.

"Aaaargh!" Vincent screamed, clutching his eyes, dropping the detonator remote and staggering backward, momentarily blinded and disoriented.

The detonator!

Scarlet didn't hesitate. She kicked the chair away from her, stumbling slightly, and lunged. She didn't go for the remote; she went for the gun Marcus's dropped pistol lying just feet away.

She scooped up the weapon, her hands fumbling slightly, but her eyes fixed on Vincent.

"Scarlet! The safety!" I yelled, my heart hammering against my ribs. I knew she had never fired a weapon in her life.

Vincent, clawing the dust from his eyes, heard me. He squinted through watering lids, seeing the gun raised, and a look of stunned disbelief crossed his face not fear, but anger that his puppet was fighting back.

"Don't you dare, you little fucking tramp!" he roared, lunging for her.

Scarlet's hands were shaking violently. She had the gun pointed, but she didn't know the mechanism.

"Left side, near the hammer! Push the lever DOWN!" I barked, moving forward as fast as I dared, keeping an eye on the remote.

Around us, the church erupted. Marcus, the henchman, was finally stirring. My ally outside must have realized what was happening, because suddenly, a wave of shouting men my backup poured through the main entrance, guns raised, freezing at the sight of the woman holding the weapon.

Vincent was nearly on Scarlet, his hands outstretched.
Scarlet's eyes locked onto mine for one last, desperate second. She found the small lever. The click was tiny, almost swallowed by the chaos, but I heard it.

The safety was off.

She squeezed the trigger.

The sound of the shot was deafening in the enclosed space a sharp, violent CRACK! The force of the recoil made her stagger back a step, the gun nearly flying from her grasp.

Vincent stopped dead. His momentum carried him forward for a half-step before his hands came to rest gently on his chest, right over his heart. His eyes widened, not with pain, but with utter shock. He looked down at the dark, rapidly spreading stain on his silk shirt, then slowly back up to Scarlet.

"Y-you..." he whispered, his voice thin, disbelief his final emotion.

He collapsed onto the floor, his body thudding heavily, silent, unmoving.

A stunned silence fell over the church. The men flooding in froze, their weapons lowered, their eyes wide with disbelief at the woman my beautiful wife, covered in dust and blood was standing over the lifeless body of the psychopath who had terrorized us all.
I rushed to Scarlet, ignoring everything else. She dropped the gun. It clattered beside the now-detonator which was quickly taken into safe hands.

She was shaking uncontrollably, her ghostly face pale, her eyes unfocused.

"Scarlet," I whispered, pulling her into my arms, holding her tightly as the reality of what she had just done what she had to do settled over her.

She clung to me, her grip vice-like. "He... he was going to kill you, Alex. I couldn't..." Her voice trailed off into a choked sob.

I held her tighter, pressing my face into her hair. "You saved us. You saved me. You are the strongest person I know."
My man approached, his face grim, but his eyes holding a profound respect as he looked at Scarlet. He knelt and quickly checked Vincent. He then glanced at the team securing the perimeter.
"It's done, Alexander," he said, his voice low. "The rat is gone. The head of the snake is gone. The loose ends... are handled. We need to get her out of here now."

I nodded, gently lifting Scarlet into my arms, carrying her out of the blood-stained ruin, away from the dust and the shadows.