He pulls the trigger, and my heart damn near stops.
There’s no shot.
He scrambles to switch off the safety, but I fall on him, shoving his hands above his head as I try to pry the weapon from his grasp.
Where the fuck is Drew? The back of my scalp turns hot, already anticipating his bullet.
Hugo twists to the side, kneeing me in the ribs. Pain shoots through my body as I hear the crack.
I flinch.Fuck.
I slam his goddamn hands down on the ground, pounding once, twice, and then three times until a cry escapes him and the gun drops away.
Giving him no time to recover, I rear my fist back and hit him so hard his teeth cut my hand.
And I keep swinging.
I can die. I can be arrested and incarcerated for the rest of my life, but as long as they’re here, she isn’t safe. This will never end.
I have to do it.
“Axel!” he cries for his crew. “Nicholas!”
I grip the hair on top of his head, hitting him again and again until my arm is on fire with exhaustion.
This will never end. Even if I can get them sent away for twenty years, it’s not over forever. They’re just leaving others in charge.
I didn’t kill David Miller.
And I don’t want any of this.
But they’re going to hurt people, and I’m doing what I have to do.
Hands bloodied, I grab his neck and squeeze.
I dig my fingers in, flex every muscle in my arms, and cut off every sputter and every gasp coming out of him.
His face contorts, his skin grays, and I’m kneeling over him, looking down into the dead eyes of another man who’s here simply because of choices I made years ago.
My chest caves, agony filling my head as I unclench my fingers.
One is a mistake. Two leaves no doubt on whether or not I’m a murderer.
I draw in a breath and nausea climbs my throat until…he sucks in a lungful of air and coughs, alive.
I choke down the lump in my throat and crawl off him, backing away.
I stare at the blood on my hands, none of it mine. Shame covers my skin, the line I almost crossed making my body shake because it’s still there. The line right in front of me as if I can still stumble over it before I have a chance to stop myself.
Drew is gone. Hugo gasps and rolls over, the gun forgotten. Axel and Nicholas crawl out of the car.
I dial 911, not because I’m worried anyone is hurt, but because Hugo is too stupid to count his losses. “There’s been a non-fatal accident with injuries on Highway 112, mile marker six.”
“No, man,” Hugo spits out, all of them climbing to their feet. “Shit.”
In moments, they’re gone, scaling the incline back up to the road and disappearing. Probably back to Weston, or at least to wait for a ride.
I hang up the phone, the line not even connected out here in the woods.
