I stand dumbly, staring at the gun aimed at my face as the seconds tick by.
“Move,” he barks, and I jolt. “Forty-seconds, Delilah.”
I hesitate for a split second, then move on instinct, and snatch up the slide and the barrel. My hands shake so hard, I drop the pieces. Grabbing them again, I take a deep breath, then drop the barrel into place and lock it back. Then I pick upthe recoil assembly, but as I try to slip it into place, my sweaty fingers slip and it pops free.
“Dammit,” I hiss, the word frayed.
I bite my lip, reminding myself he’s not really going to shoot me, but just as the thought passes through my mind, the clock rings and a quietpopechoes in the room. The distinct sound of glass cracking and then shattering fills my ears. Every single muscle in my body seizes with terror. The scream trapped in my throat nearly chokes me.
“Time’s up,” Fallon says.
I grip the table, barely able to move as my mind processes what just happened.
He shot at me.
No, notatme. He purposely shotpastme.
“You failed to assemble your weapon in time,” he says. “You’re dead.”
Tears prick my eyes.
Fallon uses the gun to gesture to the next weapon. “Continue.”
My body unfreezes one limb at a time as the realization I have to do this again, with less time, leaves a trembling numbness in its wake. My legs wobble as I robotically slide to the next gun.
“You have fifty seconds.” He adjusts the clock and then holds it up again so I can see the face. He presses the button. The hands tick forward. Fear licks a path up my spine, acidic and nearly paralyzing.
“Forty-five,” Fallon says.
I grab the next weapon and begin assembling it, but I’m shaking harder now, my hands slick with sweat. Beads of perspiration slip down the small of my back. I take a breath and focus on the task, trying to block out the sound of the clock andthe fact he has a loaded gun aimed at me. I fail on all counts, my whole body trembling.
“Faster,” he barks and then seconds later, “You’re dead.”
The bullet whizzes past my head, and another pane of glass splinters, then shatters. A choked sob escapes, and I drop the pieces of the gun to the table. They clatter and skid off, hitting the floor at his feet.
“There is no room for error,” he says. I meet his eyes, hating he can see how terrified I am. Hating that I’m forced to do this. Be here. In this room. In this fucking nightmare. Fallon holds up the watch. “Again.”
He presses the button, and the clock ticks.
My insides grow cold.He needs me so he won’t shoot me. Doubt darkens the thought, lingering in the back of my head as each second ticks by. He would have killed his son.
He could very well kill me.
Grinding my teeth, I snatch up the next slide and angrily drop the barrel into place, locking it in faster than before. Barely thinking, barely able to hear past the pulsing heartbeat in my head, I grab the recoil and line it up with the rails. Right as I’m about to slide it in place, the clock rings. Another bullet shatters a pane of glass in the window behind me. I slam the gun onto the table, tears burning my eyes.
“Fuck you!” My scream crashes through the room.
Fallon lowers the gun and marches forward. I recognize the deadly intent, the hateful gleam in his eyes. Even though the color is so much lighter than Reaper’s, his eyes glimmer with the same hostility. It’s so startling that I stumble back as he stalks around the table. When he reaches me, I attempt to dart away, but he grips the collar of my sweater and raises a hand, rearing it back. I flinch, waiting for the hit. But he grips my cheeks and pulls me to him. My hands land on his chest.
“You’re weak,” he seethes, spittle landing on my cheek.
Ripping away, I scream, “And you’re acoward.” That rage that’s been bubbling inside breaks free, and I shove at his chest. He doesn’t move an inch. “Is this how to train your soldiers? By terrifying them?”
“Fear breeds one of two things,” Fallon says, his voice dropping to a cool, even tone. “It either creates the will to survive or it hunts down the weak and swallows them alive.”
“And how many of your soldiers ended up with a bullet through their heads?” I grate out, my heart thumping so wildly I can barely breathe. “How many failed to survive you?”
Fallon’s eyes narrow. “Those that were removed gave in to fear.”
