Page 36 of Swan

“You are. I want to get to know you. Let everyone go and we’ll talk.”

She shook her head. “I’m not special. I thought we had a connection yesterday. We talked about the song. We laughed and smiled. We had something. But you didn’t look into my eyes!”

“Mary,” Lockland said, moving another step back to me.

Her eyes widened. “You do remember.”

“I do, honey. I remember you.” He nodded, taking another step closer to me. “We both love the song ‘Written for You.’”

We have to run. We have to get out of here.

She sniffed and wiped at her nose with the back of her free hand. The one that still held the gun up shook. “Our song.”

“That’s right. It’s our song. How about they all leave so we can talk about it more?”

She stared at him, then shook her head. “I can see what you’re doing.” She moved to the side to stare at me. “You just want to save her. You do love her. You do care for her. More than me.” Another scream ripped from her as she swung the gun and aimed at me.

“Mary. She’s a friend I knew in high school. We were just getting lunch together.”

“No. No, no, no.” She pulled at her hair and sneered at me. “He loves you. He won’t love me. He won’t be mine.”

“I can be,” Lockland said quickly. “If you listen to me, I’ll be yours.”

“Lies,” she screeched.

My eyes widened when I saw behind Mary a woman trying to hold a man with her back, but he brushed her off and started to creep up on Mary.

She must have sensed him, felt him. Mary spun and fired; the man cried out and fell to his arse with blood pooling around his shoulder.

“No!” Lockland yelled.

I whimpered and slapped a hand over my mouth.

“Don’t move. Don’t move,” Mary screamed.

We weren’t getting out of here.

If she was willing to shoot someone, she would know there’d be no going back from that.

Where were the police?

Where was my family?

Someone had to stop this.

“Lockland,” I said. He glanced back, and I waved a hand to the door.

He nodded and mouthed, “You go.”

“What are you doing?” Mary screamed. She came towards us, waving the gun around. My phone slipped from my hand and dropped to the floor.

People crouched, sobbed, and held onto one another.

“You don’t talk to him. Don’t look at him,” Mary snarled at me.

“Mary, look at me.” Lockland tried for her attention, but she wasn’t looking away from me.

Was this how I was going to die?

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