Before I can respond, he pulls out a gun and levels it at my chest. I duck and roll just as the first shot explodes into the wood behind me.
I hit his knees, overextending them both, and wrap my arms around his waist, pushing him backwards.
He yelps in surprise, but he doesn’t have time to do anything before he hits the floor.
We both scramble for the gun, but he hasn’t been properly trained. He doesn’t understand how to handle a weapon, how to have control over it, or how to fight.
I pluck the gun from his hand as easily as if he’d handed it to me, and then turn it on him.
The kid falls back on the floor, his head hitting the tile, and he holds up his hands, eyes squinting in anticipation.
I need to kill this kid. I absolutely should.
Yet, once again, I hear Courtney’s voice in my
