Unbound (Bound To You sequel)

FOURTEEN - Death To Our Enemies, pt. 2

Much to my uprise, the momentum of my attack drove Greg back a step and as I simultaneously dug my nails into his wrist, he dropped the gun.

Unfortunately, that was when the element of surprise stopped mattering and Greg slammed me against the bar of the cell. Hard.

For a second everything was black. Then I was on the floor.

And so was Robin and Greg. Robin was choking Greg, his hands half fingers and half claws. I smiled. Robin was drawing blood as well as cutting off his oxygen.

I wondered if he'd stop.

I'd never seen anyone die in front of me. But Greg had shot Robin. That required retribution. But...at the same time, death was so very final.

Robin jerked back. Greg had gotten his hand down to Robin's leg and the bullet wound.

No.

Still dazed I noticed the gun. It was just a few feet away from me.

Greg and Robin rolled so Greg was the one with his hands around Robin's neck.

Silver bullet. Any bullet that hit him, would hit you. Greg had told me so himself. I couldn't fire at any old angle or I'd risk hitting Robin.

I had never fired a gun. 

But there was a first time for everything I guessed. 

I pulled the trigger.

At first, it didn't work. It stopped. I tried again and the click the gun made, caught Greg's attention.

He turned.

Safety was on.

I clicked it back and as Greg's angry eyes focused on me, his face a snarling mask, I shot him.

The bang was even louder and my ears rang with it for several long moments, almost making it hard to focus on what I'd done.

I meant to hit his shoulder. Wing him, not kill.

Because death was so final.

But the bullet went higher and as if I'd been a master shot straight between his eyes.

He fell back on Robin, who pushed him off him with a disgusted snort.

Greg was dead.

I'd killed him.

Like it was on fire, I dropped the gun and crawled over to Robin, feeling like I'd been shot rather than like I'd shot someone else. I felt like a balloon that had all its air let out. Shriveled up and without a purpose.

"Are you okay?" I asked Robin. I didn't touch him. An injured wolf could be unpredictable.

"Give me a minute," he said, staying sprawled on the floor.

He was talking. That was good.

I reached forward to apply pressure but he growled. "Don't."

"You're still bleeding," I pointed out.

"It'll stop in a minute," he said, sounding more back to himself.

"Alright," I said and suddenly shaking I rolled onto my back next to him.

I wondered if I shouldn't feel something more than weariness and worry for Robin. But other than the ache I'd felt since leaving Sandleholm manor, since leaving James, there was no new terrible feeling.

Killing Greg seemed not to be real. Or that wasn't right. I knew I'd killed him. I could smell him. Smell the scents that came with death. But it didn't matter.