Jayden's hands trembled as she raised her gun, her finger tightening around the trigger. Her eyes were wild, her breath ragged—a woman pushed to the edge. "Stop," she snarled, her voice breaking with desperation, "or I'll shoot."
I chuckled, my amusement dark and unshaken. I didn't even glance at her. Instead, I turned to Martin, John, and Larry, who stood beside me like silent sentinels. "What are you waiting for?" I said, my voice calm, almost bored. "Complete the task I gave you."
Without hesitation, they turned and began moving away, their steps measured, their expressions blank.
Jayden's voice cracked. "STOP! DON'T MOVE!" Her gun didn't waver. She was past reasoning, past fear—she had nothing left to lose. "If I kill you," she whispered, her voice raw, "everything will be fine."
And then—
BANG.
The gunshot echoed through the station like a thunderclap. The bullet tore through the air, a silver streak of death aimed straight for my head.
I didn't flinch.
