Page 94 of Swerve
“Left, please,” she orders, pressing the tip of the gun to my shoulder and pushing us forward.
I start walking, one foot in front of the other, closing my eyes for a moment, as I consider the only option I have. I open my eyes and focus on a point ahead in the hallway, the spot where a fire extinguisher hangs on the wall. I count my steps. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. I turn, abruptly, ramming my shoulder into the woman’s chest. I hear the gun go off, feel a blaze of pain ricochet through my left arm. A guttural scream comes from my throat, a sound I never imagined I could make. I shove her backward. She falls to the floor, the gun skittering across the hallway carpet.
Mia screams. “Emory!”
I straddle the woman’s midsection and start to pummel her with my fists, first one, then the other, hitting her in the face and chest like someone who has gone mad. She’s stronger than I would have thought, and she struggles, pushing at me until I fall over backward.
I sense Mia behind me, scrambling, and then look up to find her standing, her feet shoulder-width apart, her arms stretched out with the gun pointed directly at the woman now on top of me.
“Get. Off. Her.” Mia’s voice is steel, unrecognizable.
The woman looks up, snags her flinty gaze with Mia’s. And then she laughs. “We both know you don’t have what it takes.”
“You’re wrong about that,” Mia says softly now. “This trap you’ve made here. You’re a monster. A coward. You don’t give your victims a chance for a fair fight. Anyone can lay a trap to catch someone who isn’t expecting it. How do you think that makes you superior to anything? You don’t have a heart. So how can you be human? You aren’t.”
“Mia. Give me the gun,” I say. “Please. Hand me the gun.”
Mia shakes her head. “No. Get up, Emory. Move away.”
I get to my feet slowly, holding out one hand. “Give me the gun, Mia.”
“No,” she says again. “I won’t let you carry this one. It’s up to me to save myself. You gave me the chance. And now, for every other girl, animal, or God knows who you’ve preyed on, this is for them.”
She points the gun directly at the woman’s chest and pulls the trigger.
Knox
“Do not be afraid; our fate
Cannot be taken from us; it is a gift.”
?Dante Alighieri
COMING OUT OF a hazy stupor, he hears the gunshot, his eyes trying to open themselves, even as his brain orders them to stay closed. He fights the pull back to unconsciousness, finally forcing his eyes to open. Nothing is clear at first, a cloudy haze at the edges of his vision. He hears himself groan, pain stabbing through his side. He presses his hand to the spot, stares at his palm now covered with blood.
He tries to remember where he is, what had happened. It comes to him in an abrupt jolt of clarity. He’s scrambling to get up then, stumbling to his feet, swiping his gaze left, then right. He stumbles over to the bathroom door which is now closed, bangs hard with his fist. “Grace! Emory! Are you in there?”
He hears soft crying. It’s the girl. “Grace, is Emory with you?”
“No! She went to find Mia.”
“The senator? Where is he?”
“He left with the other guy. Sergio.”
“You stay in there. Do not come out until I come back for you, okay?”
“Yes,” she says, crying outright now.
Knox heads for the door, nearly falling into the hallway. At the end of the corridor, he sees Emory standing with a gun in her hand. On the floor, the woman who owns the hotel. Clearly, dead.
Bracing his hand against the wall, Knox makes his way slowly toward them. “Emory. Put down the gun.”
He can see that she is frozen with shock. Blood is oozing from a wound on her shoulder.
The girl beside her looks stunned.
“I shot her,” the girl says, looking at him with eyes now brimming with tears.
