Viktor is struggling to get Mojo to release his arm. Mojo’s got him by the wrist of the hand that’s gripping the gun, which is probably why his shots went wide and didn’t hit me. The dog is growling furiously and yanking his head back and forth hard, backing up to keep Viktor off balance.
But somehow, Viktor gets free.
He doesn’t bother wasting another shot at the dog. He simply raises his arm and strides toward me, pointing his gun at my face.
I raise my hands and scream, “Stop!”
Then there’s a thundering explosion of hot air and white light, and Viktor’s head explodes like a ripe tomato.
Blood and brain matter spray the wall and ceiling.
What’s left of him topples face first to the floor, where he lies, unmoving. Blood squirts from the severed artery in his neck.
I sit stunned, no
