She stares at me. Her eyes are filled with tears, swimming with conflict. She hates me. But she’s looking at me with that same intensity she had last night.
We stand there for an eternity, locked in a stalemate of death and desire.
"You’re a monster," she sobs.
"I know."
Her finger tightens on the trigger. I tense, ready for the impact, ready for the darkness.
Then, she screams. A sound of pure frustration.
She wrenches the gun away from my chest and fires into the dirt.BANG.
She drops the weapon as if it’s on fire. She collapses to her knees, sobbing into her hands.
She couldn't do it.
She had the shot. She had the freedom. And she chose me.
I look down at her, a dark, victorious fire spreading through my veins. She is mine. Completely. Even when she holds the power of life and death, she chooses to stay in the cage.
I kneel down in the dirt in front of her. I grab her wrists and pull her hands away from her face.
"Look at me."
She looks at me, her face streaked with tears and dirt.
"You chose," I say, my voice rough. "Remember that. You had the chance, and you chose to stay."
"I hate you," she whispers.
"I know."
I pull her into me. I kiss her.
It’s a brutal kiss. A kiss of adrenaline and survival. I taste the salt of her tears and the metallic tang of the gun oil on her hands. She kisses me back, fierce and angry, her fingers digging into my shoulders.
It’s not love. Not yet.
It’s war.
And I just won the first battle.
"Come," I say, breaking the kiss and standing up. I holster the gun. "Lesson over."
I pull her to her feet. She leans against me, exhausted, her adrenaline crashing.
I walk her back toward the house, my arm heavy around her shoulders.
She is lethal now. She knows how to shoot. She knows how to kill.
But she won't kill me.
And that knowledge is more intoxicating than any drug I have ever known.
CHAPTER 13
THE EYE OF THE STORM
