Dallas was on his stomach, his rifle set up and his finger on the trigger, his friends behind him. They were all watching the monitor, the guys in horror, Dallas coolly, reassessing the angle of the curve. Olivia and Greg were standing now, and that actually helped things immeasurably. He ignored the fact that Greg was cutting Olivia’s left cheek; ignored her clear distress. Then he realized that he couldn’t just pretend that she wasn’t there.
He knew that this may well be the last time he saw Olivia alive, and he wanted to take one final look, to see how she was in what were possibly her final few seconds. No turning away from her terror, no denying the pain she was in, no hiding from just how badly he’d failed her. If he was going to hate himself for the rest of his f*****g life, Dallas
