Evie’s face was a picture of horrified recognition as she entered the bunker and was directed toward the wooden table. Amelia came in close behind her, looking around the place with fresh eyes, blissfully unaware of what was about to happen.
“Sit down,” Simon said to them all, snapping his fingers.
Mason sat closest to him, keeping as much distance as he could between his family and the killer. It dawned on him he was no longer in a position of power, and that understanding only grew stronger as Simon sat far across the table, training the gun on him and sliding a spare revolver across the decaying wood.
“The rules, as I understand them from the reports, is that you each take it in turns to pull the trigger on either yourself or the person to your left. There’s only one bullet, which means some people get to leave. Maybe even with the knowledge that your nearest and dearest would rather see you dead than them.” Simon aimed his gun at Evie. “You first, seeing as we know your brother will die either way.”
Evie slowly and hesitantly picked up the revolver. Mason didn’t think for a second that she would point the gun to her left—at her own daughter—and she clarified that very quickly by putting the gun to her head and pulling the trigger.
Nothing.
After a hollow click, three exhales breathed across the table, all full of tension. Amelia looked Evie in the eye as she took the gun from her, quickly feeling the weight in her hand. Had she even held one of those before, Mason wondered? He doubted it.
“Point it to me,” Mason said to her, unwilling to let any harm come to her. “Don’t be afraid. Just point and squeeze the trigger. It’s okay.”
The tension in the room was palpable. Simon sat chuckling as the three of them lived one of the worst moments of their lives. Amelia held the gun out with a shaking hand and aimed it at Mason. Squeezing her eyes shut, she coiled her finger around the trigger. She pulled…
And there was a click.
Mason took it from her, quickly deliberating his options. It was between shooting himself or his sister, and he already knew what he would do. What he didn’t know was whether he could get a round in at Simon before he fired back. How many times would he have to squeeze that trigger at the killer? It was a one-in-four chance of an immediate kill shot, but he didn’t like those odds. Not when his family was involved.
“Don’t waste my time,” Simon said.
“Why? Going somewhere?”
Simon sneered at that as Mason raised the barrel to his head. He angled it in such a way that he could quickly shift his aim to Simon and take his chances. The world was about to collapse around him as he became aware of the stakes. If he missed this, they would all die. His sister and his niece, all because he didn’t want to shoot himself.
Mason took one deep breath, then made his move.