Page 84 of Captured By the Scaled Outlaw

Not only do I work better alone, but having a tear-filled giant like him on my heels will make focusing much more difficult. I’m not exactly confident I can make a clean shot from this far away anyhow, so I don’t need a panicked, jumpy body elevating my stress.

“Okay…but find me once you down the sniper, okay?” he says, conflicted.

I’m lucky his love for Ginny transcends his fear of Lowell.

“I will,” I nod, knowing what I’ve agreed to is a lie.

I won’t stop at the sniper, and I have no plans on retreating. It may be the anger and betrayal consuming me, but I want my bolts to taste as much blood as there is strength in my hands to draw it.

Guy scurries off in the opposite direction, his tail hanging low. I wait until I see him make contact with Ginny and the medics before Ibegin to round the barricades.

I observe the scientist’s movements, peeking between the cracks of the bulletproof shields and stone blocks. From what I can tell, there is only one with piercing bullets. While the others hold their firearms clumsily, as if they barely know how to shoot, that’s not due to weighted piercing tips.

Ducking behind a Gaia 4 turret, I rest my crossbow atop a piece of machinery. I search for the source of the reflecting light I spotted earlier, but the sun has long since dipped behind the clouds.

Cursing to myself, I sweep my scope over the dune again.

A piercing shot crashes into the concrete behind me, kicking up dust.

Shit. They’ve already seen me.

Dust fills my lungs, plunging me into a coughing fit.

I need to get them down. Fast.

I pray to the Goddess that the sniper is not a Lizardfolk, my crossbow incapable of shooting bolts that heavy at such a long distance. I wipe saliva from the corners of my mouth as the dust settles and adrenaline prickles over my skin. It feels good.

My finger hovers over the trigger, itching to be pulled. Blood rushes to my head, a mental clock counting down as soldiers on either side fall to the ground, succumbing to their wounds.

With shaking hands, I will my heartbeat to calm.

Please. Do something. Let me find you.

Sand from atop the dune shifts as a bullet misses my head and flies into the crowd. There is a distinct sound of glass shattering.

I bite down on my lip. Worry that Lowell was struck again before I could intervene fills me with dread, but I can’t let it distract me. Even if the look in his eyes is branded on the inside of my eyelids every time I blink.

My sights hover over the disturbed sand, barely able to discern acarefully camouflaged sniper reloading their firearm.

One shot.

I have one shot before they have six more at me.

I can’t stop the tremors. My crosshairs sway from side-to-side, the body of the figure correcting to stillness as they aim straight ahead.

They’re going to fire again.

My face burns hot.

My muscles freeze.

My jaw clenches.

Sweat slips down my cheek.

Inhaling deeply, I hold my breath.

I pull the trigger, exhaling as the bolt releases from my bow.