Yet I felt… numb. Cold. Distant, as if this was happening to someone else. As if someone else’s best friend was dead on the floor in a pool of their own blood. “You’re one of Them, Maximus. You’re a… a… Drinker. You’re a monster.” My voice trembled with emotion. “And you killed Travis. You killed him.”
Maximus’s gaze dropped to my left hand.
The gun. I had drawn it when I entered the hotel and forgotten I was even holding it. Taking a deep, shuddering breath I raised it up and pointed the muzzle true. For the first time my hands did not waver.
Maximus took a step back, then stopped. Went still. “Do it then. I showed you how. One shot to the head, one to the heart. Just do it, Lola. If you think I could have done this I am dead already.”
“No.” I looked at Travis. Poor, sweet, gentle Travis. His eyes were still open, staring up at the ceiling. “He’s the one who is dead.” I aimed the gun dead center of Maximus’s chest. Aimed it right at his black, lying heart. This time I wouldn’t miss. This time I would hurt him, as much as he had hurt me.
“Lola, I love -”
I pulled the trigger.
Jillian Eaton
