Miss No One, Mark Ayre [romantic love story reading .TXT] 📗

Ndidi was down, but Abbie hadn't stopped. From her sprint, she slowed to a quick walk; both hands raised, holding her gun.

Orion watched Abbie pull the trigger. Moore’s car windscreen exploded.

Ducking between the vehicles as a second shot destroyed a wing mirror, Orion grabbed the driver side door handle of Winston's SUV and yanked.

Nothing happened.

The car was locked. Of course it was. Both vehicles were. Orion went to his jacket with desperate, scrambling hands, searching for either set of keys. He found nothing. Now he remembered Rachel pocketing Moore’s keys while Winston had never relinquished his set.

Orion was alone. And he wasn't going anywhere.

Another bullet smashed the passenger side window above his head. Ducking again, he scrambled to the back of the cars as Abbie closed in.

Orion checked for a spare magazine but couldn't find one. Ejecting the current clip, Orion found it empty. All that remained was the shot in the chamber and the short but sharp blade in his jacket.

The odds weren't good. Orion might get one chance.

Abbie came closer.

Orion moved around the car. It was just her and him now.

If Orion was going to die, he was for damn sure taking her with him.

Ana's bones still ached, and her skin felt raw. Her vision went from clear to blurred and back again on a loop, and she was dizzy. Though she was weakened by her various ailments, she lifted the rifle from where it rested on the platform's railing and staggered back towards the corner of the watchtower opposite where Winston would soon emerge.

The clanging of boots stopped. Through the grate at Ana's feet, she could see the shape of the man hovering on the steps. If he rose a couple more, his head would appear, and Ana could take a shot. The question was, would he take the risk? She doubted it. Why bother when he could fire the spray of his shotgun through the grated floor of the platform and cut her to ribbons. Ana could try the same, shooting down towards Winston, but she would have to be more accurate with her shots. The rifles bullets didn't have anywhere near the spread of the shotgun slugs.

Then there was her strength to factor in. It flooded from her legs, and she sank to her behind. Leaning into the crux of the railings in her corner, she propped the rifle in her lap and tried to take calming, strengthening breaths. She wasn't sure either effect was achieved.

Below and across from her, on the steps, she saw the shape of Winston shift. Saw what had to be his hands move as he aimed what had to be his shotgun in Ana's general direction.

"You're a clever girl," said Winston from beneath her with that smoke affected voice. "Made me think if was Abbie in the car. Wouldn't have thought it was you, would we? Because Ndidi killed you back at the flat."

Ana didn't respond. Although the rifle was propped on her lap, it was still becoming too much. She could feel it slipping. Realising she wasn't going to kill Winston with it, she let it go, keeping her hands on the stock and handle as it went, so it made as little noise as possible as it came to rest on the platform.

"Amount of bullets I've sent in the direction of your friend," Winston was saying. "Then there's you, escaping exploding vehicles and surviving shots to the head... maybe you girls are immortal. Maybe I'm wasting my time."

Without the load of the rifle in her hands, Ana could gather a little more strength. Having fallen onto her behind, she had crossed her legs like a schoolgirl in the classroom. Now she pushed herself onto her knees, with her feet up and her toes slotted into the holes of the platform grating.

This was all for nothing. Ana couldn't escape Winston.

"You mute, girl?" Winston asked. "Maybe you know I wouldn't take your word for it, even if you said you was immortal. You know I'd need to check for myself."

Ana watched the gun rise. She pushed her feet into the grate and moved her legs, diving into a half jump, half roll across the platform.

The shotgun cannoned, and Ana couldn't help but cry out as she heard the spray rattle across the underside of the grating. Many fragments passed through and disappeared into the sky.

But nothing hit Ana.

The shotgun blast had been deafening. Ana's eyes were ringing again, so she realised too late that Winston hadn't waited. He was rising the last few steps onto the watchtower platform.

Ana's jump-roll had landed her inches from the possibly dead Xavier. Knowing it was her last chance, she shoved her hand into his jacket on both sides, searching for a gun.

But there was no firearm to be found.

Ana retracted her hands and shoved herself back onto her knees as the armed Winston stepped onto the platform.

When Ana had fired the rifle at Winston, she'd been aiming between his eyes. His last-second move saved his life, but the bullet had still done some damage. The spray of blood Ana had seen came when the round whizzed past Winston's skull but ripped his ear to shreds.

Now he stood opposite her, blood caking his face and shirt, one ear missing, a gash across his head where it had been. It was horrifying—like a horror movie serial killer.

His eyes were deranged.

He clutched his shotgun too tight.

"Okay," he said. "Final immortality test. Let's see what you got."

Ana knew what she had.

One last chance.

Winston racked the shotgun and swung it around.

Ana was already moving. She charged from her kneeling position, defying the ability of her damaged body as she sprinted across the platform, arms outstretched.

The move took Winston by surprise.

He hesitated for a fraction of a second.

That was all Ana needed.

Crashing into Winston, she brought in an arc the knife she'd taken from Xavier and punctured his throat. Winston opened his mouth to scream, but only a gargle escaped, along with a trickle of blood.

He grabbed