the songbird ; b.blake

twenty-three; trigger points

Bellamy barely made it to his feet before Dax kicked him down again.

I didn't think. I launched out of the brush, boots skidding across the earth. My rifle was up, hands steady despite the tremble screaming up my arms.

"Put it down," I said, voice sharp. "Step away from him. Now."

Dax froze, the barrel still aimed at Bellamy. Slowly, he turned— rifle raised with him until we were staring down the barrels of each other's guns.

"Well, well," he muttered. "Should've stayed down there, Wren." His eyes flicked to my shoulder. "I tried not to kill you. But here you are. And Shumway said no witnesses."

I snorted. "Yeah? Well, I hope that bastard chokes on his own power trip."

Dax didn't blink. "Walk away now, and I won't kill you."

"I don't miss," I warned, finger tightening on the trigger. "Back up."

He smiled. "Your choice."

I squeezed— Click. Misfire.

"Shit—!" I dove sideways, scrambling behind a tree as a bullet ripped past where my head had just been. Bark exploded behind me. I hit the ground hard, wheezing, struggling to jam a round into the chamber.

My fingers were shaking. The bolt stuck. The clip slipped. Damn it! Behind the tree, I heard Bellamy yell.

"No!"

I peeked. Bellamy lunged at Dax. They slammed into the dirt, a tangle of limbs and snarled breaths. Dax got the upper hand quickly, wrestling Bellamy beneath him. He punched him in the face a couple of times before trying to use his rifle to choke Bellamy.

"No, no—" I growled, still fumbling with the damn rifle. My palms were slick with sweat, and my ears rang from adrenaline. The round wouldn't settle in the chamber, and Dax was choking the life out of him.

"Screw it."

I sprinted across the clearing, eyes locked on the back of Dax's head. One hit. That's all I needed. I raised the gun like a club and swung.

But Dax spun at the last second. He rammed the butt of his rifle into my stomach.

I gasped— sharp and high— air ripped from my lungs. Pain bloomed up my spine like lightning. I dropped, my knees hitting the ground before I fell on my back.

Dax turned back to him, pressing harder, snarling, "Stay down, damn it—"

Bellamy's hand snapped forward. I didn't see the bullet at first. But I saw the gleam.

The one Dax had ejected earlier. It lay just a few feet away, glinting like salvation in the dirt.

Bellamy grabbed it and stabbed it into Dax's neck.

The sound was wet. Horrible. A choke, a twitch, and then Dax fell backward, gasping. Dead.

Bellamy rolled onto his side, coughing, chest heaving. I was still wheezing, trying to breathe past the burn in my lungs. He crawled to me.

"Birdie— hey— come on." His voice was shredded. Raw.

He got his arms under me, dragging me with him until we collapsed beside a tree.

I couldn't speak yet. Could barely see. But we were alive. For now.

And then, just above a whisper, I heard him murmur, "God."

I tilted my head, looking up at him. His face was cracked wide open. Not from pain— this wasn't physical. This was deeper. His eyes were glassy, distant, staring at something far past the tree line.