Before I could reach him, two burly, black-clad bodyguards sprang out from the side and pinned me down, one on each side. No matter how I struggled, I couldn't break free.
"Let go of me! Gideon! I'll kill you!" I screamed, veins bulging in my neck.
Eliana came running up, stepping between us. "Jared! Don't be rash! Calm down!"
"Calm down?" I shouted. "You expect me to stay calm while this lunatic digs up my mother's grave?!"
She averted her eyes, speaking with the weary tone she always used. "Because of your punch, Gideon's condition has worsened. He can't be provoked—you have to understand!"
Hearing her words only encouraged him more. Gideon stopped digging for a beat, propped the shovel under his arm, and grinned at me—a smile full of malice and madness. Then he slammed the shovel down onto the exposed urn.
"No!" My chest felt like it was tearing.
There was a dull, resonant thud as the hard urn cracked. He laughed as if he was at a game and kept hitting it, blow after blow, until the urn shattered completely.
The white ashes spilled out across the dirt.
Gideon threw down the shovel, lifted his foot, and ground his heel into them hard—twisting as if crushing out a cigarette.
"Mom!"