Page 183 of Ink Deep Devotion

Amon raises one leg about to step into the SUV. He speaks for the first time.

I wish he didn’t. It makes him appear more human.

“You’re getting better, but you need to strengthen your arms so the kickback from the shotgun doesn’t jerk you so much. That’s why you missed those other targets. Your aim was thrown off.”

Thank you for that tip.I flex my biceps, bracing for the kickback.

He turns his face away to get into the car; I step out from behind the trunk and raise the gun. I clench my muscles so tight a part of me turns to stone. I take two quick steps and right before his left foot leaves the ground so he can slide into his seat, I press the barrel of the gun to the nape of his neck. Directly on top of the tip of his spine.

He hesitates, unsure if he should continue to slide into the car or bring his right foot back out onto the ground. Stuck between a limbo of life and death. All the power is in my hands.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. I spare him the prolonged moment of shock. Curling my index finger around the trigger.

Boom! Oh shit!Without my protective headphones on, the gunshot is much louder than I had anticipated. The sound numbs me, deafens the reality of the moment as it rings in my ear. It’s a blood-curdling ring that ripples again and again, making my eardrums scream.

The pellets dig into the back of his neck, tearing open his flesh, making way for small holes. I did it.

Me.

I finally saved myself.

Now, I need to save my family. I might just be a messenger, but my information is vital. Every soldier, no matter how big or small, can aid in winning a war. I need to get back to Dash and warn him.

Dash didn’t just teach me why I should run; he showed me the importance of running. The value of something is only understood after you lose it.

Did my absence change Dash’s mind? Will he value our love more, or did he decide it was worthless to him?

Maybe it doesn’t matter at all. Compassion may be more important than love. If I were selfish I would cherish my freedom and not consider the fate the Kings are trapped in. Saving them from Camilla by giving them this information in exchange for my freedom is a deal I can accept. I can’t live knowing I did nothing to save the Kings. That would mean I was a monster all along.

“I’m sorry.” I cry as Amon falls to the ground. I am. I clear my conscience by telling myself Amon isn’t a good man if he works for Camilla. I search his pockets for the keys, but then…he groans!

My eyelids curl back so deep they touch my brain. He’s alive!

Sealing my eyes shut, I inhale and pretend I’m on stage, tuning out all my emotions. Just perform; worry about the injuries later. I have to reload first, then I press the gun to his temple, and I pray to god that this next bullet ends his suffering.

His body jerks. A few minutes later, I look at his chest. No rise or fall. I peel my jacket off and place it over him, get into the car, and drive away.

Holy fuck!

What am I doing?

Chapter 66

Mila

Reaching up, I adjust the rearview mirror. I think I’m going to die of hyperventilation before Camilla finds me. My pulse beats so erratically that every inch of my skin is jumping, trying to escape, so it can’t be charged with aiding and abetting.

“Breathe, breathe, breathe.”I glance at the mirror again, waiting for cars to appear, but no one comes.

“That was too easy.”Right?

Camilla only checks on me when dinner is being served in the kitchen. We eat, then we move to the living room, light a fire, and I draw. I still have hours until they check on me. That’s why it was the perfect plan, the rare time I was alone one-on-one and not surrounded by people at the manor. But they will notice that Amon never returned.

A wave of chunks comes climbing up my stomach; the car swerves as I slam on the brakes, lean over, and puke all over the passenger seat and the gun.

I keep driving, with the windows open now as I try not to inhale the scent of my vomit. I pass one small town afteranother. Only a fool would stop in the first town. I’m no fool. I drive until I’m out of fuel, parking the car at a small pub. At least this town looks larger; we must be closer to a city.

The moment I step out of the car, my legs give out.“Ouch!” I cry as my knees slam into the ground. Now I want to cry; I feel the tears building on the edges of my eyes, ready to break free at any moment.

---