‘Ryan!’ I yell, my plea broken through a sob. I’ve seen enough. I can’t see Jarrad breathing, his body unmoving and limp, his head lolled to the side. Ryan stills, looking back at me. His eyes are empty of the laughter I’m so used to. Now there is only vengeance. ‘No more,’ I plead, having to cling to the tree trunk to steady me as I pull myself up. I keep our eyes locked, make sure he sees only me. ‘No more.’ My whisper is hardly audible, but he hears it. I see his eyes clear. I register his body engaging to move.
And then I notice Jarrad jolt, catching Ryan off guard, and he’s suddenly free from under Ryan’s body, crawling through the dirt with urgency.
He reaches for something.
The gun.
And it’s quickly aimed at Ryan.
‘No!’ I scream, but my cry is drowned out by the sound of the gun firing.
Ryan’s body catapults back, landing nearby in a heap. He’s still, lifeless, and I crumple to the ground again, watching as blood seeps through his jeans. ‘Oh my God,’ I wheeze as Jarrad clambers to his feet, his expression of pure hatred perfectly clear through the blood on his face. He stares down at Ryan’s unmoving body, a sick smile ghosting his thin lips.
My sobs come on relentlessly, my heart cracking. ‘What have you done?’ I murmur, taking my hands to my hair and pulling, praying death will take me, too. I’ll never be able to live with myself. I’ll never forgive myself for this.
Jarrad looks across at me with an abhorrence I feel for myself. My obvious grief seems to anger him further, the monster inside preparing to be unleashed again. He’s going to kill me. Good. I hope he makes it quick.
My jaw tightens, and I square him with a determined stare that I know throws him off balance momentarily. He takes one step forward, raising the gun, aiming it at me. I don’t flinch. Don’t move. I make it easy for him, keep his target still.
I’m so focused on my intention, so determined. Any purpose I had, and happiness I found, it’s all gone now. Ryan’s dead. And it’s my fault.
Not moving my eyes from Jarrad’s, I sit, waiting for the sound that’ll signify my end. My eyes drop to his finger on the trigger, watching closely as he squeezes.
And then he jerks, the gun fires, and I startle, instinctively ducking.
‘I don’t think so.’ Ryan’s voice is like life after death, and I look up, seeing the two men rolling around on the ground. Jarrad aims his gun straight into Ryan’s face, and my broken heart flies up to my throat, stripping me of the ability to scream. My brain hasn’t had time to register what’s going on; things are moving too fast.
And before I know what’s happening, I’m up and running toward them. My leg catapults forward, kicking Jarrad’s hand, and the gun goes flying into the air, landing a few yards away.
‘You stupid bitch!’ Jarrad yells, starting to get up off the ground urgently. But Ryan moves faster, expertly, straddling him and firing a few more punches into his mangled face.
I don’t scream at him to stop this time. I lower, picking up the gun from the ground. And I aim it at my husband’s head. ‘Ryan,’ I say, and he stops and looks up at me, while he holds Jarrad down by his throat. His gaze falls to the gun in my hand. And he nods.
I wait for Jarrad to look up and find me, wait for us to be eye-to-eye. Wait for him to see the strength and purpose in me. His stare widens, and I move forward, bending and pushing the barrel into the top of his head.
And I pull the trigger.Chapter 33RYAN
Staring down at the mess of blood and guts beneath me, I curl my lip, wishing I could revive Knight and repeat. I flop to my back next to him, reaching for my leg to apply pressure. Fuck me, the pain. I start to take deep breaths, feeling a bit light-headed as I strain to lift my head. I find Hannah frozen, her impossibly big eyes even larger than usual. Shock. I get it. But she’s going to have to pull herself together.
‘Hannah,’ I say, the effort of calling her name taking everything out of me.
She slowly lowers her eyes to the gun hanging limply in her hand, and then drops it like it’s a hot potato. I take in the mess of her face, blood staining the entire right side. My fists clench. If I had one more bullet, I’d crawl on my hands and knees and sink it into his dead heart.
‘Hannah,’ I call again through my teeth, pulling her attention to me. She lifts her fingertips to the cut at her temple when she registers my glare rooted there, flinching.