A breeze of garlic and coffee wafts towards me.
He’s turning his head.
Which means?—
Now.
I release my cocked arm and let my fist fly.
All the rage pent up inside me comes pouring out in one blow.
My fist slams into his nose. Cartilage cracks.
With one leg, I sweep out, catching his.
Mack screeches.
His blood coats my hand.
“No!” he shouts. “You have to die!”
A sixth sense tells me what he’s about to do before he does it.
I grab for him, catching what feels like his arm.
Then I slam him to the ground.
“NO!” Mack shrieks. “NO!”
And then.
Light glints off metal.
But it doesn’t make sense.
The flashlight?—
Is in Bea’s hand.
A flickered glance shows her standing by the V in the tunnel, her face a pale moon in the darkness. She’s shaking so hard the flashlight is jumping. But it’s enough.
Enough to see the gun Mack’s holding.
Enough to yank it from his hand.
Mack howls, “NO!”
Something rumbles above us.
A thought flickers.
Kill him.
It would be well deserved.
It would be justice for the people he killed.
But.
