“I can’t.” Her voice cracks. “Please don’t make me do this.”
“I have all day, my love.” I gesture to the investigator bleeding on the ground. “He’s gonna die of blood loss baby, why not just put him out of his misery.” She raises the gun with shaking hands, aims it at the investigator’s head. Then, she turns and points it directly at my chest. My men tense, but I hold up a hand. I smile. “Go ahead, angel,” I say softly, walking toward her. “Shoot me.”
She sobs, trembling visibly, but she keeps the gun trained on me as I close the distance. When I’m close enough, I press my chest against the barrel. “Here, baby. This is a better angle. Do it. End both our misery.”
Her breath hitches, as she tightens her grip on the trigger. She pulls the trigger and the gun clicks uselessly, the safety still engaged. Her eyes fly open, wide with shock. I smile, reaching out to gently take the weapon from her limp hands.
“Safety was on, baby.” I flip the switch on the side. Click. Pressing the gun back into her hands. I wrap my large fingersover her small ones, locking her grip tight.
“Now it’s off,” I whisper against her ear. “Try again.”
She holds my gaze. I’m giving her an impossible choice, and she knows it. But she can’t. She won’t kill me.
The gun drops from her hands. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I can’t.”
I pick up the gun and press it back into her hands, then turn her to face the investigator.
“Since you can’t shoot me, sweetheart,” I say, wrapping my hand around hers on the gun, guiding her aim to his head, “shoot him.”
She doesn’t apologize this time, shocking me she pulls the trigger, the gunshot echoing through the trees as his body crumples. She bends over to vomit onto the forest floor while I catch her hair back.
“I told you there was no escaping me,” I say quietly, rubbing her back as she heaves. “It’s okay, princess. It’s not your fault. It’s mine.”
Her response is more retching until there’s nothing left, and when she tries to stand, her legs give out and she’s gasping for air, her breathing labored and ragged.
I motion to one of my men.
“Oxygen. Now.”
He sprints to the helicopter and returns with a portable tank and mask. I press it to her face, holding it there while she takes shallow, desperate breaths.
“Breathe, angel,” I murmur. “Just breathe.”
After a few moments, her breathing steadies slightly, though her eyes are still streaming and her face is pale beneaththe soot. I pick her up, keeping the oxygen mask pressed to her face, and carry her to the helicopter.
• • •
We get back to the house where I set her on the couch in the main living room. She sits there staring at nothing. There’s a cup of tea on the table beside her. Her crying stopped on the way back, only small hiccups leaving her lips occasionally.
"Call everyone," I tell my men. "Everyone who was here today." Within minutes they're all gathered, each ones face is paler than the next, avoiding eye contact with me and Iris.
"You," I say, looking at each of them. "All of you are the reason this happened. You're the reason I came home to find her gone." I pull out my gun. "So, who was supposed to be watching her? Tell me the idiots who were on duty on the count of three, if not, I'm going to kill every single one of you. One. Two—"
"I'll marry you!" The words explode out of her, silencing the room.
I turn slowly. "What did you say?"
"I'll marry you," she says again, tears streaming down her face. "I'll fucking marry you. Just don't kill them. Please. No more."
I walk over to her, crouching down so we're eye level. "You will?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure?"
Yes," she sobs. "Yes, I'm sure." I cup her face.
My thumbs brush the wet from her cheeks, and then I kiss her. Slow. Deep. Like we're running out of time.
