I’m halfway to the edge of the woods when the burn inside my skull drops a few inches. Something shreds through my body, and the downpour of rain is unable to cool its unexpected arrival.
I make it another few feet before the agony scorching my lower back makes my knees buckle. The pain is intense, but it is nothing compared to the fury coursing through my veins from my body not responding to the prompts of my brain. I don’t give up when I am down. I thrive under pressure.
With the strength of ten men, I stand to my feet then spin around to face the person responsible for the seeping hole in my back. The man chasing me startles, as surprised by my presence as I am by his. He balks so rigidly, his helmet falls off his head.
“Not who you were expecting?” I ask, my usually deep voice huffy and breathless.
Bryce shakes his head, certain the sedatives Lee gave me would have taken down an elephant.
It is a pity he underestimated me.
It is also a pity I’m five seconds away from passing out from substantial blood loss. The wound in my back is gushing, soaking my shirt more swiftly than the thunderous sky above my head.
Noticing I am injured, Bryce steps closer. “Drop the weapon, Dexter, and we’ll pretend tonight never happen.”
My manic laughter smears my teeth with blood. “Your partner’s last meal was lead. There ain’t no way we can pretend this never happened.”
I don’t know if it’s a lack of oxygen to my brain or the sedatives, but Bryce doesn’t seem the least bit concerned about the death of his colleague. If anything, he looks pleased.
“Lee got what was coming to him.”
Shockingly, Bryce nods in agreement.
“Now you’re going to get the same.”
With my body in the process of shutting down, it takes a mammoth effort to lift my gun, and even when I do, I’m too late. Bryce is pointing an assault rifle at my heart; his finger is already on the trigger. I won’t fire off a single round before I’m gunned down.At least I won’t die a coward.
Just before my finger yanks back the trigger, Bryce’s gun falls from his hands. Stumbling forward, he clutches the back of his head. The tiniest sliver of silver behind his left shoulder is my only clue to the cause of his wobbling steps.
As blood oozes from his mouth like a tap, Claudia rears back her weapon of choice for the second time. This time around, the impact of her shovel to the back of his head is so firm, the life in his eyes fully vacates before he hits the drenched grass like a bag of shit.
I stare at Claudia in awe, and in all honesty, turned on as fuck. She just took down a man three times her weight and double her width wearing a floral dress and a smile. You can’t get more cock-thickening than that.
