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Peyton lined up his shot, guided by Tyler’s low, soothing voice beside him. Excitement thrummed in him like a physical touch, his heart pulsing in his chest. He’d been born for this. Made especially to line people up in his scope and pick them off like pins in a game of bowling.
He was good at it.
He loved it.
He lived for it.
“Shooter ready,” he said once everything lined up right where he wanted them.
Seconds later, he got the wind command and squeezed the trigger.
He knew what happened next. Had done it enough times to know how many seconds’ delay there was before the brain caught up to the body, and it dropped like dead weight.
This time nothing happened. Something was wrong. The target didn’t go down.
Instead, they turned around and looked right at him. The bullet had hit from behind, a little high to be quite a perfect shot between the eyes.
Blood ran down their face. It dripped from the end of their nose.
Peyton’s heart jumped into his throat, and his fingers went slack as terror spread through him, turning the blood in his veins to ice.
He knew that face.
Sebastian.
No.
Horror swamped him, everything inside him stopping. The ice shattered, tearing him apart from the inside.
No.
Sebastian’s mouth opened, and Peyton heard the words clear as day.
“Why?”
He woke with a choked scream.
Black closed in on him, and someone touched him. He tried to get away, kicking out violently.
“Peyton, calm down. It’s all right. It’s me.”
Peyton knew that voice. Will.
No.
He needed to get away from him, or he’d kill him too. Everything he touched turned to death because hewasdeath. He dished it out like he had a right to decide who got to live or die, who escaped his clutches and who didn’t.
A hand slid under his shoulder, and he fought harder. A painful twinge ran down his opposite arm, and he felt trapped by a heavy weight around it.No.
“Peyton.” The low urgent voice wasn’t Will. It was softer, deeper. There was a command in it that Peyton instinctively responded to. “There you go. Calm. Everything is okay. Open your eyes for me.”
The first thing Peyton saw were beautiful brown eyes. “Will,” he whispered.
“Hey,” Will said, smiling down at him.
Peyton reached out a shaky hand towards Will. Despite the chill in the air, he could feel sweat beading at his temples. He hissed in pain when he tried to lift his other arm.
“Careful,” Will said, running a hand through Peyton’s hair while his opposite arm skimmed up Peyton’s outstretched arm to clasp his hand. He pressed his lips to it and then lowered it gently to rest on Peyton’s stomach.
