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“Stop! Please! No!” he cries, tears springing to his eyes.
The flash hits me out of nowhere.
“Please. I don’t wanna die.”
“Close your eyes.”
“Oh God. No. No. No. God, please, no.”
It only makes me rage harder.
Can’t be having it.
Can’t go to that place.
I fist my hand in the guy’s t-shirt and haul him off the bar.
He lands hard in a heap on the floor, groaning and crying.
I take aim at his skull.
My finger’s hot on the trigger, ready to blow the asshole away.
And that’s when it happens again.
Another flashback that I can’t prevent.
The bullet rips into his skull, drilling a hole right through flesh and bone. Blood splatters. He doesn’t scream because he’s already dead. An instant kill. His body crumples to the ground like a rag doll, almost folding into itself as it smacks against the hard concrete. His head settles on the ground at an abnormal angle.
A shove from the side propels me away from the guy, also tearing me from the memory of another life I’ve taken. So many, it’s nearly impossible to discern who’s who, which kill is which. They all blend together after time. You stop counting. Stop caring. Stop feeling.
“Leave it,” Runner tells me, his arms up in a fighting stance, ready to try to enforce it if he’s gotta. “It’s done. We got the intel. We know Kingmaker’s in Priests hands. Let’s focus on that, keep our heads on straight, yeah?”
I look between him and the asshole crying out in agony on the floor.
“Fine,” I say, as my gaze snaps back to Runner, hating the concern I see there.
That ain’t how it’s supposed to be.
I take that away for them, for the club, for the people I care about.
I don’t cause it.
“Get gone, Runner,” I tell him. “Head back home. To your family.”
“What? No. The job ain’t done.”
“It is for you.”
“Dealer—”
“I ain’t letting you get close to Priest and his Gatekeepers. That’s beyond dangerous. You made a promise to your wife. You do this and you’re gonna be breaking that, big time.”
“Fuck,” he grunts. “Fine. But you need backup.”
“If I do, I’ll call.”
He looks more than a little skeptical.
