And because of Natty’s training, I knew how to use the thing. Eddie Ray had her to thank for that.
Before he’d even recognized the weapon in my hand—the still-bound one—or the fact that the other one was free, I’d reached across and released the slide.
Then I switched hands and raised the gun right at him.
Quickly. In one arcing motion so he didn’t have time to run, or even duck out of the way.
I didn’t ask if he’d change his mind. I didn’t clarify how he planned to track Tyler down, or ask him to explain how he planned to sell him or to whom.
I pulled the trigger.
The gun’s kick threw me back against the steel table. My neck was still bound, so it’s not like I had all that far to go, but the impact was solid, making my vision blur.
Eddie Ray had only been standing a few feet away and I hadn’t missed. It had been like watching the blond girl go down, only in reverse.
The bullet struck him just above his left eye, in his forehead, which hadn’t exactly been where I’d been aiming . . . but it did the trick all the same.
By the time seven minutes had passed, it was down to just me and Natty, and I needed to find her before she found me.
After I’d shot Eddie Ray, I’d scrambled to get off that damned table—I couldn’t do it fast enough, but the entire time all I could think was, I shot someone . . . I shot someone . . . I shot someone . . .
It made no difference that he meant to capture Tyler, or that he would’ve killed me if I’d hesitated. What I’d done was inconceivable, and I was still trembling. Still, none of that stopped me from snagging Blondie’s boots so I wouldn’t have to navigate the hallways barefoot again.
I hadn’t made it far when the two guys whose names I’d never even learned found me.
When they came ricocheting around the corner, I was almost as surprised to see them as they were to see me. Almost, but not quite.
My hands were shaking but I got off two rounds, one into each of their heads, and then, as if I were as coldblooded as Eddie Ray, I stepped over them on my way out.
Next it was Natty’s turn.
I wish the thought disturbed me more.
The last time I’d seen Natty I’d learned she’d never been my friend. That she was responsible for the Daylighters’ siege of Blackwater. Responsible for me losing my dad and Tyler all over again. Now I had a chance to get my revenge against her for everything she’d done.
A satisfied smile curled my lips.
My borrowed boots crunched across the littered floors. Natty was here—I could feel her. Practically smell her.
If only.
I kept the gun in front of me as I moved from room to room. My only knowledge of searches came from movies and TV, so I was sure I looked like one of those jacked-up cop-actors Austin and Tyler’s dad, who was a real cop, always made fun of.
But so what? All that mattered was that I found her before she found me.
My heart was beating against the over-tight muscles of my chest like a mallet. Beat-BEAT, beat-BEAT, beat-BEAT. NO way Natty didn’t hear that from a mile away.
I stopped when I heard something, but the noise was all wrong.
It came from overhead, not in front or behind me, and I squinted to get a glimpse of whatever was up there, trying my best to see past the rotting rafters. I had to find it—that scuffling, scraping sound. And still, my heart beat-BEAT against my ribs, pulverizing them.
Something came at me then, faster than a shadow.
Flinching, I nearly dropped the gun as I used my hand to shield my face. When I crouched, a nail along the baseboard raked across my knee.
It’s okay. I’m okay, I told myself, biting back a hysterical bubble of laughter when I realized it had been a bird. Trapped the way I was inside the asylum. It flew down the hall one way, and then came back the other, its wings frantically stirring the dust-filled air as it searched for a way out.
“Jesus . . . ,” I muttered, getting to my feet again.
“Jesus can’t help you.” Natty’s voice was like liquid ice.
Had she been standing there, watching the entire time? Waiting for me to mess up?
When I turned, it was slow and deliberate . . . and not complete. I came to a stop when I saw her. When I saw the gun in her hand, not a handgun like mine, but one so large she had to grip it with both hands.
One that was aimed directly at me.
“I know they’re dead,” she told me coldly. “I know you killed them.”
“I’ll kill you too,” I stated matter-of-factly.
She shrugged, not at all concerned. Not at all believing I would do it. “You know, it was dumb luck that we tracked you down. Your dad made it tough. He was better than I gave him credit for. We had eyes on several state DOT traffic cams for days before we finally picked up that damn truck of his outside Fort Collins. Good thing for us his piece of junk is hard to miss, because he was smart enough to switch the plates.” She took a step closer, and my heart picked up a notch.