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I gave him a quick once-over for a weapon and found a pistol holstered at his belt. To distract him, I yanked the knife from his neck as I pulled the gun from his holster. Blood splattered down on my face, neck, chest.
Removing the knife knocked him out of his shock and he quickly reached up to his neck to try and stop the bleeding. He watched me in horror as I brought up his gun, aiming it at his head. He flew backward, scurrying to get away from me.
I sat up and watched as he tried to army-crawl, heading for the door. With how fast he was losing blood, I knew he wouldn’t get far.
I ejected the magazine and found it full. After reloading, I got to my feet. The second I was up, the door began to open. I aimed the gun in that direction just as Buck had the door all the way open and took a step inside.
He froze when he saw me and the gun I had pointed at him. In one of his hands, he was carrying a couple of plastic bags from a store.
“Shut the door,” I ordered.
Slowly, without taking his venomous eyes off me, he used his foot to kick the door closed behind him. His fellow Aryan made a gurgling noise, drawing Buck’s attention to the floor. The lackey reached a bloody hand up to him out of desperation. Buck didn’t take it. He only spared him a brief, indifferent glance before looking around the rest of the room.
Losing strength and life, the lackey’s hand dropped to the ground. He didn’t move again after that.
Buck spotted Amelia in the kitchen. When he took her in, annoyance graced his face. “Did you kill her?”
Such a dumb question, since I was still chained up. I studied him, trying to see what his words wouldn’t tell me.
His annoyance deepened. “Is my kid dead, too?” he asked as he moved farther into the room. The bold move was to show off how big his balls were and to test if I’d get nervous. Unfortunately for him, I enjoyed such games.
When he didn’t get a reaction from me, he practically tossed the bags he was holding onto the table. Whatever he had bought clanked and plopped against the wood surface.
I tilted my head toward the basket where his baby lay sleeping on the floor next to the couch.
He stared in that direction for one whole second, and in that short period of time, nothing changed in his face. No worry for his son or relief that he was still alive, now that he’d gotten a good enough look to know for sure.
“So is this how you’re going to end it, bitch?” he asked. “You’re just going to shoot me?”
He’s stalling.
Even though I knew what he was doing, I itched to play his little game. “After months of envisioning how I’d torture and gut you a million different ways, it is a little anticlimactic.”
An evil, pleased grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. He was blatantly happy that I wasn’t getting the revenge I wanted. Or at least that was what he wanted me to think.
I found the latter to be true after I asked, “Would you like to say goodbye to your son?”
His grin dropped and his rage grew. I could feel it come off of him and thicken the air. A pleased grin of my own threatened to show as I saw the scheming and plotting brewing in his eyes.
“Tick tock, Mr. Werner, or I might change my mind,” I said.
His hands fisted at his sides. Not out of anger or frustration, but to steady them. He straightened his shoulders next before he began making his way toward his son. I knew what determination looked like when I saw it. And if he was determined, he had a plan. And if he had a plan, he had hope of getting out of this. That was what I’d been waiting for.
“Time’s up,” I said just as he’d stepped over the dead Aryan. He barely had enough time to register my words before I pulled the trigger twice. The first bullet to the chest made him jerk backward. The second put him on his ass.
Down he went. I savored the sight as he went almost completely prone and struggled to sit up. He put a hand over one of the places on his chest I’d shot before pulling it away to look at it. His palm was covered in blood. The action reminded me of Louie and how he had done the same.
The baby began to cry. Buck didn’t even seem to hear him, or he just didn’t care. With a pain-contorted face he stared up at me. “What are you waiting for?” he struggled to get out between coughing and choppy, wet breathing. By the time he was done speaking, blood was dribbling from his mouth.
“I’m debating whether or not I want to watch you drown in your own blood,” I replied in a low voice, which I doubt he heard over the baby’s cries. I really was tempted to watch him die slowly, but I was sure he had a weapon on him. I couldn’t risk him taking any opportunity he could to reach for it. With a sigh, I aimed the gun between his legs and pulled the trigger again.
The shot rang out, terrifying the baby even more.
Buck yelled, rolling onto his side with his hand covering his groin. “You fucking cunt!” Despite the blood spraying from his mouth, he sure got that out clearly.
“That was for your wife,” I said loud enough for him to hear me over the baby.
Buck moved his hand from his now bleeding member and reached into his jacket. I adjusted my aim one last time. Just as he pulled a gun from his jacket, I fired. The bullet hit its mark right below his left eye. His head whipped backward and then he went completely limp on the floor.
