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Judge Mathis’s eyes bore into me, the threat of violence discernable in the air. And as his gaze wavered, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, I realized we were all victims in this intricate game of survival. We were all just trying to stay alive, our decisions dictated by the desperate need to keep breathing for another day, another hour, another minute. The line between prey and predator blurred, distorted by fear and desperation.
And in that moment, a profound sadness washed over me. This was the life Declan had sucked us into, a life defined by violence and deceit. As I stood there, under the relentless Texas sun, I knew this was a world I could no longer be a part of.
“He . . . he was going to . . .” My voice trembled, my words tripping over each other in their hurry to escape. “He was going to kill you. Both of you.”
A hush fell over us. Judge Mathis staggered back, his face pale. “What . . . ?”
I swallowed, steeling myself. “We planned an ambush on the trail. You weren’t supposed to make it back.”
His eyes were piercing, the weight of my confession pressing down on all of us. His hand tightened around the gun, the knuckles white.
“You . . . you were in on this?” he stuttered, his face turning a shade of red. “You lured us into a trap?”
“Yes, but I—” The words died in my throat as he took a menacing step toward me.
“No,” he spat, his voice a low growl. “No excuses.”
His hand trembled as he raised the gun, pointing it at me. His eyes were wild, darting around the property as if expecting enemies to leap out at any moment.
“You think you can just play with people’s lives?” he shouted, his words slicing through the silence. “That you can decide who lives and who dies?”
“No, judge, it’s not like that. I—” I tried to explain, but he cut me off with a wild shake of his head.
“No!” he roared. “You’re a killer!”
His finger twitched on the trigger, and I could see the battle waging in his mind. To pull or not to pull. Life or death. All hanging on a thread.
“I should kill you,” he snarled. “For trying to kill us. For leading us into a death trap. It would be self-defense, you know. Easily cleaned up.”
“I didn’t want this,” I pleaded. “I changed my mind. That’s why I brought us back.”
But it was too late. The judgment was written all over his face. I was the enemy. And enemies were to be taken out.
The judge’s wife was a spectator of terror in the background, her anguished cries swallowed by the unforgiving tension between us. And in the silence that swallowed my pleas, the air seemed to crackle with the inevitability of violence. The conclusion was written on the judge’s face, the final verdict drawn.
But then, the world exploded.
The gunshot’s deafening blow split the silence, ricocheting off the quiet landscape. An anguished cry tore through the air as Judge Mathis’s body jerked, the force of the bullet throwing him backwards. Blood blossomed like a grotesque flower on his chest, soaking into his pristine white shirt. His eyes widened in shock, and the gun slipped from his fingers, clattering onto the dirt.
There was another blast, and the judge’s wife was swept off her feet. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as she crumpled to the ground, blood staining her cream-colored top.
A wild, primal fear seized me as I stared at their fallen bodies. Time seemed to have frozen, the silence punctuated by the soft moans of the injured and dying. The taste of death filled the air, sharp and bitter.
It was then that I saw him. Declan emerged from the side of the barn, his silhouette standing out against the setting sun. He was a picture of death, his face hard and unyielding. The Colt .45 still smoked in his hand, its metallic taste hanging heavy in the air. His gaze met mine, and in his eyes, I saw a hardened resolve that shocked me.
The world around me spun. The scent of blood and gunpowder, the moans of the dying, and Declan’s piercing eyes converged into a nightmarish assembly of death and betrayal. The grisly scene of violence played out in cruel, high-definition clarity, each minute detail etched into my mind.
The horror of it, the reality of my complicity, crashed down on me. My knees buckled, and I fell to the ground, my world narrowing to the sickening sight of Judge Mathis and his wife, life ebbing away from them.
As their life seeped into the Texas dirt, I could only watch, the bitter taste of regret and dread etching itself into my soul. I had played with life and death, and death had won. I was a part of this carnage, a player in this brutal game of survival. My mind reeled at the thought, the world blurring as I was swallowed by the tragic reality of what I’d become.
Declan approached me slowly, deliberately, as though he was afraid any sudden movement might scare me away. His boots crunched against the dry earth, a somber drumbeat to our grim silence.
“Clover?” His voice cut through the stillness, sounding unusually soft, almost tender.
I tried to answer, but the words got caught in my throat. Panic bubbled up inside me, threatening to spill over. My breaths came in short, rapid gasps, the world around me tilting dangerously. Would he be mad that I ran?
“Why, Clover?” he asked again, his face a mask of confusion and concern. “Why did you change the plan? Why did you warn them?”
