In the hospital room, Zane Patterson gripped the handrail by the bed, enduring the sharp pain in his leg. Bit by bit, he pushed himself into a sitting position until his back was against the headboard.
Jett Westgate toyed with the revolver in his hand. The cylinder spun nimbly between his fingers, making soft CLICK, CLICK sounds, like a slow countdown.
"You first, or me?" His voice wasn't loud; it was almost casual.
"I'll go first." Zane wasn't afraid.
This gun duel was, to put it bluntly, a gamble with their lives. Either he died, or Jett Westgate died. He refused to believe Jett's luck was so good that he could hog all the good fortune in the world.
If Jett Westgate died, Annelise would be free. Then he would take Annelise and Pippa back to their home with the lawn, the swing set, and the golden retriever, and live out the rest of his life in peace.
'What if I'm the one who dies?' He had considered the possibility.
