Page 121 of The Triangle

And at that, fokken Danny comes stepping out from the shelter of the trees, rifle at the ready. Danny, Danny, Danny. So very Danny of you.

“What do you remember?” he asks.

She looks around at the three of us. I’m not certain why Lars hasn’t shot me yet. I suppose it’s possible that he was waiting to make Christine do it. Either as some sort of test or simply because even after his little speech about resentment and power, he’d feel bad putting a bullet in his big brother.

“I remember you,” she says, referring to Danny. “I remember you leaving.”

Danny stares at her. She stares back.

“And you,” she says to me. “I remember you betraying me.”

She stares at me now. I know what she’s talking about. I regretted it then just as much as I regret it now. But a fat lot of good regret does anyone.

“And you,” she says to Lars. “I remember how you were there for me when Alec wasn’t.”

“I still am,” he says. “I’m still here. Let’s finish this now.” He nods at me, gives Christine a tight smile.

I stand. Slowly. Saying, as I rise, “Tell you what. I’ve got a brilliant idea, yeah? How about this? Let’s try to work this all out together. All of us. Yeah? We’re all family. Family by blood, family by choice. It doesn’t matter, does it? And this is a family business. So let’s figure out how to bury everyone’s hurt feelings and hang-ups about… whatever… and see how we can move forward as a unit. Kak, man. There’s a whole bleeding lot of dead bodies back there and the four of us… we’re the last ones standing. That has to count for something. We’re survivors. All of us. I mean… imagine what we could achieve if we all just found some common ground.”

I’ve never been much of a statistics enthusiast. Nor am I an “odds” oke. So I couldn’t begin to lay a wager on what the chances are that my preposterous idea might gain some traction in this moment, but quite frankly, I’m all out of moves.

The only thing that can kill Alec van den Berg is Alec van Berg. Maybe. Maybe not. There are four of us standing in the clearing on this chilly autumn night. And at least one of us is not going to make it. Unless I can find the part of our shared desire that all of us can lock onto.

The sound of the rushing waterfall crashing into the earth below is the only thing I can hear. I breathe. Fill my lungs with cold air. I have goosebumps. Must be from the cold. I don’t remember the last time that happened.

After what feels like quite a very long time indeed, Christine is the one to speak. She looks at Danny. Looks at Lars. Looks at me. I can’t tell what she’s thinking. And then finally, after several long moments…

“Sorry, Alec,” she says. “Can’t do it. A triangle only has three sides.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR - CHRISTINE

“That’s my girl,” Lars says. His face so handsome. His body so perfect.

I feel sick. So, so sick.

But I wasn’t lying. I do remember.

“Latch on to that anger, luv,” Lars continues. “The memory of how it felt when your hero, Alec, burned you. How he smiled in your face as he turned his back.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” That’s Danny. His rifle is hanging by his side. Like he’s got no interest in killing anyone.

I back away, acutely aware that Lars and I are very close to the edge of the rushing river, the thundering sound of the waterfall down below like a soundtrack to a sick, sad ending. I trip over a rock and Danny, because he’s the one I’m looking at, reaches out with his hand. Like he can pull me in across the distance and stop my tumble.

And it works. Because I don’t fall.

“Where are you going?” Lars laughs.

“I remember you too,” I say, not taking my eyes off Danny. “I remember the things you said. All the things you said to get me on your side.”

“My side? Luv, this is our side. It’s us against him, yeah? Remember that? That was you, Christine. That was all you.”

I sigh, still backing away. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to look at them. I don’t want this rifle, I don’t want this life, I don’t want—“That wasn’t me,” I say. But it’s a very weak denial.

“What the fuck,” Danny spits, “is he talking about?”

“I’m talking about the—”

“Shut up!” I yell it. And even over the crashing waterfall, it is loud. “Shut the fuck up!”