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But how?
How?
We were down to just a few minutes now, and with how fast Joruch could fly, it might even be less than that.
Layla tried to speak but the scumbag’s grip was too tight.
“Let her speak,” I said. “Please.”
The criminal reached out a hand. “The Orb.”
Layla’s expression had changed, turning more confident.
She had an idea, I thought.
She knew how to get out of this mess.
But I needed to make him let her speak so she could tell me.
Keeping my blaster trained on the scumbag’s head, I reached into my jacket and extracted the Orb.
The criminal’s eyes remained transfixed on it.
His hand reached out, as if it could actually touch it.
His smile faded when I placed the Orb at the business end of my pistol.
His eyes raised to mine and he scowled so hard I thought he was going to squeeze his trigger just to spite me.
And force me to fail the second woman I had ever loved, and watch her body crumple at my enemy’s feet.
Instead, he gradually loosened his grip on Layla’s throat.
Only a little, but enough for her to speak.
He wouldn’t let her say much, I knew, so I hoped she chose her words carefully.
Her eyes locked onto mine and she said three words:
“Only bad luck.”
And the criminal squeezed her neck once more, choking off any more words she might have wanted to say.
But there were no other words.
She had said everything she needed to say.
And I got it.
I understood.
There was one way out of this and it was the one thing I wasn’t sure I could do.
To open fire and strike the bastard right between the eyes.
To take the risk I might strike her into the bargain… and do it anyway.
Dare I evencontemplatesuch a thing?
