Page 114 of Russian Roulette

I don’t dare glance over at Seven. I’m sure the same thoughts are running through his head. He probably figured out the game was real the same time I did. I’m afraid to make any sudden movements or do anything that will set Vulcan off and speed things up.

Somehow, someway, I need to end this.

But how?

I can’t think. There are three fucking bullets in the gun. The odds of Vulcan surviving the next trigger pull are fifty-fifty. Or less. Hell, I’m not sure. Statistics don’t mean a damn thing in a situation like this. Sweat is pouring down my back from the tension.

“You’re dead right about one thing,” Vulcan says. “We’re wasting too much fucking time with this bastard. Enough of that shit. I’m losing patience.” He suddenly puts the gun to his head, puts his finger on the trigger and starts rapidly counting. “One…two…three.”

“No!” I yell and rush toward him.

The deafening explosion of the gun going off shatters my world.

God help me, I’m too late.