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I allow the full weight of my body to collide with Brad’s, knocking us both over. The sound of the gun falling to the floor echoes around us. His shock wears off as soon as it clatters to the hardwood.
We start to struggle for it.
I throw the first punch.
He throws the second.
Blood sprays all around us.
Payton moves across the room, her hand stretching out to grab the gun.
Brad’s hands loop around her ankle. He pulls her back out of range of the gun.
She hits the floor with a thud, and I want to make sure she is okay, but I don’t have enough time.
Brad is back on me, heavy, tall, and built like a tank.
He moves to grab my head, an attempt to kill me, I’m sure.
But I’m too fast.
I head-butt him, knock him off me, and charge for the gun.
I can feel the metal in my hand. Brad shakes his head, bringing himself back to the present, and charges me.
I only have a second to move.
A second to think . . .
And I don’t.
I just lift my hand, and the gun goes off.
Brad’s body slumps to the floor. Payton is lying on the rug, not moving. I drop beside her in a second, leaning over her and pressing my fingers to her neck, searching desperately for a pulse.
“Please wake up, princess,” I beg.
I plead.
I cry.
“I can’t do this without you, Payton.” I chant her name against her temple. “I don’t want to be without you. Please. I love you.”
“You do?” she whispers.
“Oh, thank fuck.” I lean down and kiss her mouth, pulling her body to rest on mine. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, I think.”
I move her up and place my hands on her jaw, forcing her to look me dead in the eyes. “You swear you’re okay?”
She nods, but she groans as she does.
“Don’t move,” I order, holding her still so she doesn’t hurt herself. “Don’t move until I know you’re okay.”
Her wrists are raw, bruised, and cut in places. Red-hot anger fills me. Death was too quick for Brad.
But Payton, my Payton, is too fixed on me to think about him.
