Adam and Miller struggled on the floor.
Bang!Adam grunted and rolled away.
My stomach dropped. “Adam!”
Lucas sailed over the furniture to kick Miller’s hand before he could raise it again. The gun skittered away.
Useless with my hands tied and pinned together by the knife, I could only watch while Miller jumped to his feet. Lucas swung. Miller twisted away, his blade raised, and kicked hard, catching Lucas in the gut.
Miller grunted when Luke’s knife swiped his ribs. He grabbed Lucas by the wrist, and together they stumbled towardthe wall. Miller slammed Luke’s arm over and over into the wood until he dropped his weapon.
Disarmed, Luke retreated, but Miller followed.
Smoke curled through the air, and my gaze darted to the open door, where the unmistakable orange glow of fire undulated in the night.
Urgency spiked. A moan ripped from my throat as my teeth gripped the handle of the blade, sliding it out. Blood dripped, but I sat, pinning the knife between my knees, blade up. I sawed at the rope binding my wrists.
Miller swiped, but Lucas dodged, maneuvering Miller’s weapon into his hands. Miller withdrew another from a holster at his thigh.
The threads of rope frayed, and I sawed faster.
Adam moaned on the floor.
The lingering threads unraveled…
The fire outside licked at the pine walls.
The fight left paint strokes of blood across the wood. Miller arced a powerful strike that Lucas barely avoided, parrying with a hard hit to Miller’s injured right arm. Miller kicked Lucas’s trick knee.
The fire grew.
Saw faster.
Lucas dropped, and with a hard blow, Miller buried his knife in Lucas’s chest.
I screamed.
Eyes wide, Lucas stared at the blade, blood pooling around the metal.
Saw faster!
Miller unsheathed one last knife. “You watching, sugar?”
The rope snapped, and I reached for the gun at my back.
Miller aimed his weapon at Lucas’s throat.
As he thrust, Lucas struck. His hands gripped and twisted Miller’s wrist. Miller couldn’t avoid the momentum that drove the blade through the soft, fragile tissue beneath his chin and into his head.
And in case that didn’t kill him, the three bullets I released into his back did. My hands screeched in agony.
Jack Miller fell, a wet, pathetic choke emerging from his throat as he slumped to the floor.
Lucas breathed hard, the knife still buried in his chest. His gaze met mine. The gun dropped from my hand with a loud clunk.
Behind him, the fire ate through the cabin.
A stuttered gasp and my name escaped his lips with his last breath. White as a ghost, his eyes fluttered shut, and he collapsed to the floor.
