Page 221 of Overcast

My head bobs up and down, arguing with everything he’s saying. My arm that’s still holding the gun begins to rattle not in fear but because I’m about to say goodbye to a man that has done more for me than anyone.

“I do...love you. So much.” I blink back more tears so I can see him through clear eyes. “You did more for me than anyone else—know that. Without you...I’d still be the scared little girl who never stood up for herself. I wouldn’t look at life the way I do now, free and open...so open.”

“And it’s all there for you, baby,” he returns. “Make me proud, okay?”

My jaw convulses, trying to contain the waves of howls and blubbering that wants to break free.

I wish he wasn’t so good to me.

I wish that I still hated him.

That we had more time.

“I think we’ve heard enough sappy bullshit for now,” Eli finally recites. “Pull the trigger, and you two ladies get to walk out free. Actually...I’ll walk out of here, this is Reagan’s house after all.”

“How about you fucking leave now?” Reagan snaps.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Eli replies. “I’ll be back for Lockwood.”

“Tsarina,” Marty voices. “He’ll be fine.” His eyes stare at her hard. “He’ll be alright.”

He means B723.

And I believe that. Now that they know there is another threat that still remains, they’ll protect all parties involved.

But without Marty, Reagan won’t be able to live it down without him. Their bond is so powerful that I strongly felt it the first time they were together in her kitchen after I ran away from the bunker.

They need each other.

Marty can’t deal with her getting hurt. And if he’s dead, she’s safe with B723, but seeing him shot to death isn’t ideal.

Hazel eyes pierce through me again, and I straighten my spine, ready to make my final decision.

“Ready?” he asks me. “One more time, baby.”

“I love you, Marty.” The sentiment flows freely from my lips like I was always meant to say those four words. That they were the realest and most profound thing I’ve ever had to say.

“And I love you, sweetheart. On the count of three...one.” I step back, pulling the gun off him before placing it under my chin. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

The cool cylinder barrel hits my warmed flesh, and I don’t flinch at his words, they were expected from him.

“Move that fucking gun right the fuck now.”

I don’t because this makes sense.

I have no one but him.

He has everyone.

Marty will mourn me, remember me, but if I live, not only will I be alone—no one will be there to grieve over my death.

It makes sense. It’s what I’m going to do. And there isn’t a thing Marty can say to make me change my mind.

“Stormi.” Marty strides in my direction determined to rip the gun out of my hand. However, he’s liable to do the same thing I’m doing and pull the trigger on his own damn self.

I just thought of it first.

“Stop,” the man behind him bellows before I see him pull out a small gun from his holster and aim at Marty.

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