Page 2 of Double or Nothing
Without hesitation, I turn, aiming for a spot right between the Russian’s eyes, and pull the trigger. His head explodes with the first bullet. I fire again and the second bullet destroys what’s left of his evil face.
I’m in shock, unable to believe Vulcan lined up three fucking bullets in a row. Realizing how close he came to killing himself makes me physically ill.
Vulcan twists his head to glance over his shoulder at the man. “No!” he yells. “You killed him!”
He surges away from Seven and piles on top of me, wrestling for control of the gun. Though there are no more bullets in the chamber, he’s not getting the gun back tonight.
Maybe never, if I have anything to say about it.
I’m terrified of what he might do in his current frame of mind.
I throw the gun away from us as far as I can, then wrap my arms tightly around Vulcan’s chest. Rolling over with my back on the ground, I hold on to him with everything I have in me.
The ground beneath us is rough and unforgiving, the dirt and rocks digging into my skin as I struggle to maintain my grip on him. He fights me with an animalistic fury, a wild desperation driving him mad.
His breathing comes in short, labored gasps, each exhale hot against my skin. The sounds of the struggle, grunts and curses, seem magnified in the night’s stillness.
“Vulcan, stop! Stop!”
The taste of dust fills my mouth as I shout at Vulcan, my voice growing hoarse from the effort. My heart races in my chest, the frantic pounding reverberating through my entire body as I fight to keep him restrained. The muscles in my arms ache from the exertion, but I refuse to let go, my determination fueled by the knowledge that I must keep him safe from himself.
Seven tries to maintain a grip on Vulcan’s arms, and it takes every bit of strength both of us possess to subdue him. Despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins, I can feel my strength slowly beginning to wane, the fatigue and the shock of the night's events taking their toll.
"Vulcan, please," I beg, my voice hoarse and desperate. "You need to calm down. We're trying to help you. Stop struggling."
His muscles flex and strain beneath my grasp, the heat of his skin searing through my clothes as I cling to him, desperate to keep him from doing any more harm. Guttural growls punctuate the sound of his ragged breathing.
As I lie beneath Vulcan, the weight of his body pressing down on me, I’m struck by the intensity of the emotions that flood my senses. Fear and panic mix with a fierce protectiveness to keep him safe from the demons that haunt him.
Finally, as if my words have penetrated the haze of his rage, Vulcan's movements slow. The wild expression in his eyes fades as he stares down at me, his expression a mixture of confusion and anguish. In that moment, our eyes lock, and an unspoken understanding passes between us.
Seven releases his grip slightly on Vulcan's arms, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. In the dim light, I glimpse the dirt smudged across his cheeks, evidence of our harrowing ordeal.
“Are you hurt?” I shout at Vulcan, still keeping a tight grip around his chest. “Did you get shot?”
Vulcan doesn’t feel pain like a normal person, and he could be severely injured right now without realizing it. It’s too dark to see if he’s bleeding.
“Vulcan! Answer me! Are you hurt?” I repeat.
Vulcan is far off in another place and my words aren’t getting through to him.
“I think I knocked the gun out of his hand as it went off,” Seven grunts. “Maybe he wasn’t hit.” He’s out of breath from wrestling with Vulcan.
So am I.
Wrangling six-hundred-pound tigers is nothing compared to this.
“Vulcan, talk to us,” Seven urges, his voice gentle but firm. “Tell us if you’re still with us. We need to know if you’re injured.”
The silence stretches between us, the tension in the air palpable as we wait for Vulcan to respond. To come back from the hell where his mind is.
At last, Vulcan's raw voice breaks the silence. "Why did you kill him?" he mutters, the words barely audible. “Now we’ll never find her.”
“Damn right, I killed that bastard,” I reply, not loosening my grip. “To save you. I had to put a stop to that stupid Russian Roulette game of yours. Are you hurt? Did you get shot?”
“I don’t know,” he answers after a moment. “Maybe.”
“Maybe what?” Seven asks. “Maybe you’re shot? Fuck Vulcan! You don’t know if a bullet went into your body? What the hell! Are you in pain?”
