Devil for a Lost Cause

Fifty-Two

"Andrew," Steven cuts, approaching him. "It's time for me to get what I'm owed."

"Ah, yes." Andrew sounds pleased. "That's right. We have met the end of our agreement, haven't we? The few rebels left alive have already been scared into silence."

"Now it's my turn to have mine."

Steven stands behind Andrew, who doesn't spare him a single glance. His gaze is on me, forcing Steven to converse with his back. But despite their age difference, despite how Steven must be older, Andrew stands taller, as if more confident in himself, as if he's lived more years.

And to Steven, he says, "You ought to ask yourself if even you believe that."

The air in the room grows more rigid by the second.

"What?" Steven finally replies.

Andrew huffs. "You nearly gave away your position more than once, even though I specifically instructed you to be careful whenever you went out on a job."

"I—"

"You let this one"—his chin thrusts at me—"work with two others to try exposing me to the public, and after I ordered you to get rid of them, your only action was to call me, insisting that I take care of the girl and boy."

Ingrid and Roland. If they didn't make it to the police, then...

Now I have to know. "Where are they?"

"Hush now, Samuel, the adults are talking." His insult only makes me more anxious, but I don't get the chance to demand one.

Steven hardens, but Andrew still faces me, refusing to meet his furious stare.

"You failed to inform me of any of their major plans so that I could take precautions and put a stop to them. And," he adds, his face turning to stone, "you all but blackmailed me into helping you deal with your hatred for Samuel, like a child whining about his failures. And must I even bring up Katrina?" His lip twitches with disgust. "Are you so desperate for revenge that you actually believe you've earned your piece of our agreement?"

Steven looks about ready to murder someone. "You—" He breaks off, starts again. "You son of a bitch! You promised me I'd have his head if I did what you told me to."

"I said no such thing. I said I would give you the chance to get your sorely desired revenge on Samuel Williams, but I never specified in which form it would come. I suppose you should have been more careful with whom you made your deal with."

"You lied to me. You deceived me!"

Andrew laughs darkly. "This, coming from the man who spent a year with a nineteen-year-old boy pretending to be his friend. And really, isn't that revenge enough for you? You betrayed his trust."

"That's not—"

"You've failed me in multiple ways," Andrew interrupts, "therefore you're only expendable to me now."

When Andrew's fingers twitch, I jolt forward, screaming, "Steven, WATCH OUT!"

He doesn't act fast enough before Andrew pulls a gun from his belt, spins on his heel, and shoots him in the forehead.

I flinch as the sound thunders off the walls.

Steven's eyes roll back into his skull. He collapses to the floor, landing flat on his back with a sickening thump. A crimson bead dribbles from the chunk of bullet lodged in his forehead.

I can't speak. I can't scream. I can't move.

Andrew regards me with curiosity. "You were trying to warn him. Why?"