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He’s intentionally being vague, and I want to tell him to get on with it already, but I’m assuming he likes this part the best. The part where he gets to dangle the marionette strings over us. He can do it all he wants as long as my family’s legacy stays safe, and hopefully, the rest of us too. “You’ll have to explain that one to me.”
He pulls a gun from the waistband of his pants and holds it in front of him. “You have to prove your willingness to team up with us. In doing so, you give up a little piece of yourself and place it in our hands where we’ll keep it nice and safe...or don’t,” he says, shrugging. “It all depends on what you choose.”
I stare at the black handgun swaying from his fingers. My father taught me how to shoot when we were in the mountains. After we would make camp, we used to set up target practice, listening to the gun fire echoing around us.
“We’ll agree to leave you alone for now if you put a bullet in...Lance Jacobs.”
I gaze over my shoulder to watch the color drain from Lance’s face. “The fuck? That’s not what we agreed to. I’ll kill you for this. I’ll—”
“Soon, Dakota,” the leader says. “If I have to listen to the words coming out of his mouth for much longer, the deal is gone, and you’ll wish you were dead.”
“I’ve never—”
“Take the gun,” he roars.
I take it, feeling the weight of it in my hands. I stumble with it on purpose. I don’t want him to know I’ve used one of these before. Sometimes, it’s best to hold all your cards close to the vest.
“Dakota,” Stone says, voice unsure. He swallows, and the Adam’s apple bobs in his throat.
His low tone pierces my gut, but I block it out. He brought his father here. I owe him nothing, and I owe his father even less than that. “It’s the only way,” I say, looking away. There’s something in his eyes that could make me change my mind, and I’m not going to do that. This is what will save us all right now. Unless I’ve completely read the situation wrong.
“Dakota,” Stone urges.
Lance prowls forward, gazing from me to the gun. “You little bitch.”
I raise the barrel, aiming it square in his chest.
He still strides toward me, face angry. He doesn’t think I’m going to do it. He calls me every twisted name in the book. Whore. Slut. Cunt. Freak.
I peek at Wyatt, who’s still clutching his side. He’s white as a sheet, cringing, blood still pooling over his fingers. Lucas’s face is still smashed in the dirt. His keeper has a booted foot on the back of his neck, holding him there no matter how hard he struggles. While I watch, he nudges the barrel of the gun into Lucas’s head.
Lance is almost to me now. I line up my shot and take the safety off. His eyes round for a fraction of a second, the disgusting words he’s shouting at me die on his lips as I pull the trigger.
I had no other choice.
The gunfire doesn’t echo like I remember. It pierces my ears for a brief moment before it’s carried away on the wind.
Lance slumps to the ground. I watch his body hit, but nothing comes over me. Not remorse. Not anger. Not even satisfaction.
The leader steps into my view, holding his hand out for the gun. I hand it over, and he grins. “It’ll be nice working with you, Dakota Wilder. I’m Cole.” His grin stays as he pockets the gun, but then it slips from his face as he reaches to the collar of his shirt, yanking it down to reveal a dragon. Flames shoot from its open mouth, leaping up Cole’s neck. “You’re now the property of the Dragons. We’ll be in touch.”
Cole moves out of my line of sight, his two friends trailing him to the ATV’s. But all I can focus on is Stone. He leans over his father’s body as bright red blood spills from the hole I made.
Calm washes over me. I guess I really am a Wilder now.
Treasure above everything else.