Page 38 of Savior

I rock harder, willing the madness away. Begging for my life to be over.

I can’t go back. I won’t.

The woman steps out of view and I sense a change in the air. The tension builds around us.

“Cole, I’m going to shoot,” she announces. “I can’t let him take another step.”

Luther must be close. Almost within range of the island counter.

Luca loosens his hold and slides out from behind me, his weapon at the ready, his body crouching lower as if preparing for battle.

I need to fight.

I can’t hide. I can’t show weakness. But that’s what my potential savior is asking of me—to remain vulnerable. To cower.

I slide back to the wall, bow my head and jam my fingers into my ears. It’s all I can do to stop myself from running for that gun when everything inside me is screaming tofight, fight, fight.

I rock on my haunches like a child. I pretend it’s only a matter of time before Luther is taken down, when in reality I know he’s seconds away from killing this woman… then his adult son… followed by the man at my side… then me.

“Stop.Luther. Stop,” she yells. “Release the gun or I’ll shoot.”

I can still hear her. The panic. The fear.

I rock harder. Faster.

“Cole?” the woman pleads.

I can feel Luther behind me. It’s as if he’s right there, peering down, the whole world entirely still. Only me and him. Power pitted against instability.

Pop.

I jerk backward at the sudden blast, my ears ringing, my head filling with static.

Luca rushes to his feet and I frantically scramble to follow, both of us joining the woman who stands tall, and Cole who is hunched on the tile, as we stare at Luther laid flat on the floor.

Blood seeps from his mouth as he gurgles and splutters, the gun remaining tight in his grip.

My tormentor continues to breathe, his chest rising and falling while the barrel of his weapon slowly edges its way toward his son.

He’s going to shoot. He’s going to—

Pop.

Pop.

I jump with the explosions.

Pop.

Pop.

Anissa keeps shooting, over and over until the wild bursts of noise resemble hollow clicks and the man who stole my life stares blankly ahead. Not breathing. Not blinking.

Dead.

I always anticipated blinding happiness when I fantasized about this moment. I thought I’d want to laugh. To dance. To celebrate.

None of the jubilation hits me.

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