She fought with all her might. She fought dirty. She had to. The blood in her eyes had blinded her to all intent. She relied on wits that had been sharpened in the last year dealing with the shit she’d been through. She punched and when that didn’t seem to make a difference, she scratched. Then bit. He was not taking her son from her.
She heard Ian shout at them to break it up. Like a teacher in a school playground. But this fight was for so much more than teenage pride. It was for Dylan. It was for everything they had been through. A fight to the death.
The punch rocked her. It caught her on the neck and caused one side of her body to suddenly go numb, her arm letting go of his shoulder.
There was no follow-up blow. Just a hard shove that forced her away from him.
It allowed her to clear some of the blood from her eyes. It felt like a thick, stinging molasses. Though the ache in her skull cried out for her to give up she put her hand out to lever herself back up. To go again. To attack. In doing so her hand brushed something hard. Metal. The rifle.
Grabbing it, Naiyana staggered to her feet. She raised the gun and aimed it at Lorcan. At the blur that was Lorcan, one arm hanging limp by his side.
She could hear Ian yelling for her to put it down. And Lorcan yelling that Ian had killed Dylan.
She needed to end this.
She would aim for his chest. The largest surface area. One half-decent shot would do it.
She tried to set her feet to do so but found she had little control of her limbs, as if the blow to the head had sheared the connections. The sand grabbed onto her feet, holding them in place as her body weight pitched forward. She stumbled towards her husband, falling pathetically.
Lorcan’s one good hand grabbed for the rifle. She tried to squeeze the trigger but off-balance it was twisted from her hands, the butt swinging around and cracking into her forehead, spinning her to the side. More pain. More violent lullabies ringing around her skull.
The shot deafened her as she fell to the sand.
Blinking hard again, riding out the pain, she found Lorcan lying beside her, blood pumping from the hole in his chest. Her mouth opened but nothing came out. She rolled over and faced the sun, the savage evening heat and thick blood scalding her eyes, as if seeking to blind her completely.
Ian appeared into her blurred vision, standing over her. The rifle was in his hands. Now would be the time to kill her. She watched his finger tease the trigger. She tried to find the sparkling blue eyes that had drawn her into this mess. To plead with him. For what? For mercy? But what was mercy? Was it him finishing her off? Ending her misery?
She didn’t find the answer, blinking furiously as the world washed away from her, leaving her in complete darkness.