Dark brows draw together, and he takes a step toward me.
I lift the gun so the barrel is trained on him.
He growls and lifts a hand to swat it away.
My finger squeezes the trigger. The blast deafens me, and pain lances my shoulder with the force of the shot.
Brandon is on the ground beside Carter.
The gun was loaded.
I didn’t mean to shoot. My finger slipped when he tried to bat the gun away.
“Brandon!” I scream his name, but his only response is a wet cough.
His chest convulses. Half his face is missing, shredded by buckshot. His blue eyes are wide on mine, dark with pain and betrayal.
I stumble back, and the gun drops from my numb fingers.
Brandon’s eyes slide closed, and he stops moving.
Then I become aware of the flickering flames that illuminate the tack room. The kerosene lamp smashed when I was struggling against Carter. Fire licks the aged wooden walls, and smoke clogs the air.
My next breath burns.
I exhale on a rough cough.
I have to get out. I have to survive.
Carter and Brandon are…dead. If I stay here, I’ll die with them.
I lurch out of the tack room, holding my breath. In a matter of seconds, I burst out of the burning stables and into the night air. I gasp for fresh oxygen and keep running.
I sprint through the woods, as though I can outrun what I’ve done.
But nothing can take it back. Nothing can make Bradon whole again. Nothing can make him kiss me and say my name with reverence.
How could he kiss me with those bloody lips? I destroyed the soft mouth that’s claimed mine on so many sweet, forbidden nights in the wilderness.
I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to.
I repeat the pathetic excuse to myself over and over, but nothing will ever assuage my guilt. I’m a murderer.
My bloody hands will never be clean again.
Brandon’s ruined face fills my mind.
“You did this to me.” His jaw flashes white bone around the accusation. “I’m dead because of you.”
His gory features morph into Rich’s face. The gaping slash across his neck is a sickening mirror of his boyish smile.
“I’m dead because of you.”
Their voices merge into one terrible truth.
I choke on a sob, and I claw my way back to consciousness. My pillow is wet with my tears, and my sheets are damp from sweat.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper into the darkness. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to.”
