Page 66 of The Girl and the Cobra

The breath I let out is a heavy one, and I whisper, “No, it’s not fair.”

His gaze narrows in the moonlight, and he snarls, “I’m glad we can agree on that. Your fucking brother got what he deserved, but you?” He reaches for something on his chest: a strap, and he lifts it up and over his head, swinging something around.

A hunting rifle.

He rests the stock against his shoulder. “It wasn’t just your brother. Everyone heard it. My son is dead because of you—you don’t get to move on. You don’t get to act like everything is fine when you took my world from me.”

I close my eyes. Of course. He wants to kill me. I can’t blame him. No, as a father I’m sure he saw everything good about his son and nothing bad… just like my dad and Jordan. All parents are blinded by the love they feel.

So was I. I may have entertained Jordan’s killer fantasies, but I never actually thought he’d do anything. I never thought…

When I open my eyes, I say, “So you brought me here to shoot me.”

“To kill you,” he corrects me. “And to hunt you.” He gives me a smile, and it’s a wicked one at that. “So why don’t you turn around and try to outrun me, little girl?”

That’s the thing about hunting. Hunters don’t have to be right up on their prey to hit their mark. With that rifle, he could easily shoot me from a good distance; running would basically be pointless.

What hunters enjoy is the chase. The hunt. That’s what Robert Hayes wants. He wants to enjoy this. The man wants me to run for my life, in fear all the while, and for the last thing I feel to be sheer, utter terror. It’s what I deserve, isn’t it?

Whether I run or not… it doesn’t really matter. He’ll get me either way.

If this would have happened months ago, I would’ve ran with no hesitation, but things have changed. I’ve changed. It’d be a lie to say I moved on completely, but I’m not the same girl I was when I was haunted by what Jordan did and my part in it.

And this new me isn’t going to run.

“No,” I say, shocking him.

“No?” Robert Hayes scoffs, adjusting his hold on his hunting rifle. “What the fuck do you mean, no? If I say to run, you’re going to run—”

This time I’m firmer when I say, “No. I’m not going to run. If you want to kill me, then you’re going to do it right now, and you’re going to have to look at my face while you do it—not my back.”

I can tell he’s not too happy with my insistence. He wants to argue; I’ve ruined his game. He probably wants to chase me for a while, get a nice good thrill going, and then end it whenever he’s had enough—AKA whenever he thinks I’m terrified enough. To stand there and look at his face and tell him that I’m not playing his game? Ruins the entire thing.

And he’s pissed.

Robert Hayes bares his teeth at me in an ugly gesture, but he eventually says, “Fine. If that’s what you want, I don’t care. As long as tonight ends with you getting the same treatment your brother got.” He points his large rifle at me, and with a mere five feet between us, it’s point-blank range. If he fires, there isn’t a single shred of hope that he’ll miss or it won’t be fatal.

I’m seconds away from death. I’m literally staring at it over the barrel of the rifle, and the thing is, I’m not scared anymore. I don’t want to die—of course I don’t. I have so much left to live for, something I didn’t realize until recently—but I’m done hiding, done running. I’m taking a stand, here and now.

My last thoughts are of Tristan and how much I love him.

Chapter Twenty-Nine – Tristan

He took her out of town. By the look of it, they’re on some hiking trail—but all trails around here close at dusk according to Wolf.

Wolf. The only thing stopping me from wrapping my hands around his neck and squeezing the life out of him is the fact that he sewed in tiny trackers into all of Mabel’s shoes; without that, we wouldn’t know where to go.

This is a set-up. A fucking test. I know it is. When it comes to Wolf, it’s not surprising. What I don’t quite get is which outcome he wants to see. Does he want me to unleash the Cobra again? Does he want me to hold it back?

Or maybe the asshole just wants to see what I’d do if I lose Mabel.

A moot possibility, because I refuse to lose her.

The GPS tracker on Wolf’s phone blinks; a red dot in a sea of white on the screen that lights up the darkness inside the vehicle. I can’t take my eyes off it as we drive along. The red dot stopped moving a bit ago; I just hope to God it doesn’t mean she’s dead.

Mabel brought me back to life. She took my corpse and breathed life into my lungs once more. I don’t think I could go on without her. She’s everything to me. I need her more than I’ve ever needed anything in my entire fucking life.

I willnotlose her.

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