Anna slid down from the table and picked up Simon’s gun. Clutching her side in pain, she lurched towards Conchos, her face a mask of utter revulsion and loathing. Filled with hatred and barely able to carry the heavy gun, she pushed Simon out of the way as he tried to help her. Conchos saw her coming and his shuffling movements became more frantic but it was useless.
Standing back a few paces, she pulled back the catch on the gun, wanting him to feel the same fear that he instilled in others – that morbid dread that consumes you when you know your life is about to end. She looked into his eyes, hoping to see that terror, but she was disappointed. Emotionless and without remorse to the very end, he stared up at her vacantly before a thin smile spread across his lips.
From point blank rang
