His eyes go wide. “Then why do you do it?”
“Because I have no choice.”
I raise my hand. The boy seems to understand that the conversation is over. His lower lip starts to tremble and I can see the desperation flit across his eyes.
“It won’t hurt,” I reassure him. “You won’t feel a thing.”
“I feel it now,” he replies. “I can feel it already.”
A tear slips down his cheek.
I still feel nothing.
My finger is poised over the trigger. I’m ready to pull.
Do it.
End him.
But I can’t.
I sigh in frustration and let my hand fall down to my side.
“Get out of my sight before I change my mind.”
His eyes go wide with disbelief.
“I said, go.”
The kid scrambles off, tripping several times before he manages to gain enough wind to disappear into the woods.
I stomp back to the cabin in the blackest mood I can remember. I’ll let the night foragers take care of the bastards’ bodies.
At the lodge, I kick in the door, drop my guns on the kitchen table, and collapse into a chair, head buried in my hands.
“What the fuck?” I mutter under my breath again and again. “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck…”
A whine answers me.
I raise my head to see the mutt lying between my feet. He’s gazing up at me with those big, emotional eyes.
“I actually pity you too much to kill you,” I grumble.
He flicks his ears as though my threat is hollow and he knows it.
The worst part is, he’s right.
“What the fuck am I supposed to be doing?” I ask him.
I’ve been training like a madman for months. But I haven’t left the mountain. I could’ve gone at any time once my injuries healed. Just get in the Jeep and make for Los Angeles.
And if tonight hasn’t proved that I’m as good as ever—better, even—then I don’t know what will.
So what am I waiting for?
I should be retaking what’s mine. Hunting down Budimir and slaughtering him the way he deserves.
Instead, I’m freezing my ass off on this fucking mountain.