Page 132 of One Last Chance

“You can’t actually be serious!” Flynn said. “Every one of us sees you. Knows who you are!”

Axel stiffened as the man pointed the gun at him again.

“Really?” Dillon said, his voice low. “Maybe you don’t know where you are, honey, but no one here is going to say a word. Not when they know what I can do to them.”

Axel saw Donald draw in a breath, and his jaw tightened.

“Dori,” said Flynn quietly.

“He killed Dori?” Kennedy said.

“I’ll bet you wondered why that little girl never came back. She was tougher than she looked. Took me two days to track her down. Even injured as she was.”

More gasps, and a couple women started to cry.

“So, here is how this is going to work. I know this is a peace-loving community, and I am gonna leave it at that. All I want is these outsiders. The twins. And I leave, just like that. No harm. And I don’t come back. Unless I have to.”

He turned to Axel. “Oh, except for you. You’re a problem, with your new television show. People might miss you. So I’ll give you a head start. You’ll have to choose—stay together and die, split up and maybe one of you gets away. But not all three.”

“I’m going to have to decline,” Axel said.

“Not an option. Move.”

Axel stayed.

“Okay.” Dillon pulled out a bear gun?—

“That’s mine!” Flynn said?—

And he shot Donald.

The man jerked, fell, rolled in the dirt, moaning.

“Not dead yet, but I can fix that?—”

“Seriously! What is wrong with you!” This from Kennedy, who’d come out from behind Axel. She stalked toward Dillon. “Fine. Take me and be done. But leave these people alone?—”

And he could have guessed that Flynn would walk out from behind him too, grabbing hands with her sister.

Sheesh.

Axel gave Donald a once-over. The pellet had hit him in the shoulder—the one with the sling—but it looked like it had gone through the fleshy part, taking out a chunk of skin.

“Sorry, man,” he said and stepped up behind Flynn. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Flynn looked at him. “Stay here.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.” He scooted in front of them again, his hands up. “Dillon, let’s just . . . take a breath here. No one needs to get hunted?—”

“I’m going to let you walk past me and start running. I’ll give you two minutes.”

Axel had entered aWalking Deadhorror show. “Dillon?—”

“Or I could just leave you here with Donald.” Dillon raised the bear gun.

Axel reached for Flynn’s hand, then Kennedy’s. “You said two minutes. Make it five—two is hardly a challenge for a real hunter.” He looked at Dillon, his heart a fist, pounding through his chest.

“Axel,” Flynn hissed. “What are you?—”

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