“Game’s end,” he said.
He’s never said that before, Kendall thought.
Breathing hard, she lifted her head and stared right at him. “If you’re going to kill me you son of a bitch, then do it.”
“What’s wrong Kendall, are you tired of playing our little game?”
“Game? That’s all this is to you, isn’t it? Some sick perverted game. Damn it, this is my life.”
“Yes it is. And I hold the power of life and death—your life and death—in my hands.”
His cold, self-satisfied smile sent shivers through her.
“Why me?”
“Because you’re so very perfect.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You don’t need to understand. All you need to do is die.”
She swallowed hard. He’s actually going to kill me this time. Icy fear froze her to the spot. “Do it, damn you, do it!”
The first shot hit her in her right leg. Pain. Excruciating pain. She grasped her bloody thigh as she fell to her knees. The second bullet hit her in the shoulder.
She stared at him through a haze of agonized tears and waited for the third shot.
Nothing.
“End it,” she screamed. “Please, please…”
The third shot entered her chest, but missed her heart.
The pain enveloped her, taking her over completely, becoming who she was. No longer Kendall. Only the torment she endured.
As she lay on the ground, bleeding to death, her captor approached. When she felt the tip of the rifle muzzle pressing against the back of her head, she closed her eyes and prayed for death.
The fourth and final bullet answered her prayer.
The Dying Game Page 40
