The sound of a grunt ricochets through the air, and I’m practically strained at the idea of Ozzy being assaulted.
Now or never, Astor. Help him.
The metal against my index fingers taunts me with life or death. It doesn’t give me any comfort or promise that it might save me.
The only thing I have is looking into Torin’s eyes while I possibly take my last breath on this Earth and hope he moves on without me.
For me.
“Be strong for me,” I mutter to him, clenching my eyes shut as I yank on the trigger before I can talk myself out of it and wait for whatever happens next.
I hear the click.
But I don’t believe I’m breathing.
Hard lips slam into mine before warmth spreads through my still operating veins, and it’s Torin’s mouth demanding my sole focus.
I’m quick to respond with a kiss of my own when the gun is ripped from my grasp, causing me to pry my lips off Torin’s.
“Fuckthis,” Ramsey spits out, lifting the weapon to his head, nostrils flared in fury, and I stare at him in utter shock that he’s going through with this shit.
That this stupid motherfucker is going to put the final bullet into his pea-sized brain.
I mean, do you, asshole.
But, of course, he’s a fink. A fuckingliar.
He removes the revolver from his temple and directs it instead at the back of Torin’s head.
“No,” I bark out, cupping the back of Torin’s skull like it’s going to do anything. “He wasn’t involved. Youcalledmeout.”
“And we’ll have a re-do.” He reaches out, violently yanking on Torin’s hair and forcing his head back. “How ’bout it, little bro? You wanna take this bullet for me, or should I just take out this little bitch?”
“We’ve already had this conversation,” Pretty Boy deadpans.
Ramsey scoffs with a small shake of his head. “You’d really die for some stupid whore who spreads her legs to just anyone? You think you’re special?”
“I know I’m special. But you’re not man enough to take that shot, are you, bitch?”
Ramsey’s nostrils flare. “I’m man enough, just fine.”
He returns the weapon to his skull, and on bated breath, I hear it click.
Then nothing.
No blood splatter.
His head doesn’t pop like a balloon.
Ramsey just stands there—more alive than ever—and I’m so fucking confused.
“Damn,” I hear a familiar voice say from somewhere behind him. “Let me help you with that.”
Warm liquid suddenly sprays against my face when I hear two consecutive shots ring through the air, causing my eyes to clench closed.
Then silence.
Except for the intense ringing in my ears that has me stretching my jaw because…did I just see Ramsey go down?
