Chapter Fifty-Three - Westin

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

WESTIN

Hooves skid to a halt. My boots hit the ground.

In the distance, lights glimmer.

The valley is laid out at my feet. Far to my left, I see the cliffs where Sovereign killed Clint. Down below, the road is a coal gray snake through the mountains. I sling the rifle from my back and hang Godspeed's reins around her saddle horn.

At the edge, I set up my rifle. The sky is clear, and it's light enough I see the truck from a mile away. I sink down onto my belly and fit my eye to the scope.

The road curves. The truck eases closer.

Sweat etches down my forehead. I blink it away. My body is soaked with sweat from riding hard.

I take a breath and release slowly. An owl screeches, and the wind picks up in the trees. Lifting my head, I assess it. Fuck, there's more breeze than I anticipated up here. Sweat stings my eyes, and I wipe it away with my palm and look through the scope.

I have less than a minute.

The river glitters. Everything is so silent now .

This time, as I lay in wait, I don't feel my father looking over my shoulder. I don't see the stern line of his mouth in my mind's eye. My head is just blank, and I'm fully honed in on my target.

Sweat slips down through my hair, and I flick it back, repositioning my eye.

Thirty seconds.

I breathe in, my finger hovering over the trigger. The truck is close enough that I can make out the windshield. Then, it hits the curve before the bridge, and I see that the side window is open.

That's a harder shot to take, but it's cleaner.

I blink hard. My eyes sting, but I barely feel them. The world is gone around me, nothing but the tiny space inside my scope. The truck moves closer, on the bridge now.

I'm so quiet inside.

This is, without a doubt, the hardest shot I've ever taken, and it has the highest stakes. I can't miss. I promised my girl she'd have everything, and I intend to make good on that.

Their vehicle is almost at the center of the bridge. I recognize it as the truck Corbin Buchanan showed up in, his company logo a pale smear on the side.

I have no time left.

Everything clicks into place at the last second, the product of years of practice. I see the sliver of the window. I know where the driver sits. I think I see a glimpse of his face, like a pale half-moon. The truck window comes into full view, going fifty miles an hour at least.

My finger comes down on the trigger, and I account for the kick.

I account for everything, the way he trained me to.

The wind.

The dark.

The miles.

I swear, I feel the mechanics of the pistol click into motion.

In fifty years, this bullet will be nothing but a story, just like the rest of it—the hot summer day I fed her apple from my mouth, the pining, the secret tryst by the cemetery, the bullet in Avery's head, and now, the greatest shot I'll ever take .

The world is so tranquil, it's hard to believe it's still spinning. I lift my head, heart steady, eyes fixed on the truck. It keeps on in a straight line for a few seconds, not wavering.

My stomach sinks. Fuck, I missed.

Then, it veers, grazing the guardrail and sending up sparks. The wheels spin out of control, and it flips. A crash echoes through the valley before it rolls over the edge and falls.

And falls.

There's a second explosion as it collides with the water. I know there's nothing left, not from that height. The two men and their truck are in shreds, rolling down the current.

My shoulders sink. I rise until I'm on my knees, looking out over the empty road.

Hot wind ruffles my hair. The moon glimmers overhead.

They're gone.

I sling the rifle up over my shoulder. Tonight is my wedding night, and my work here is done.