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Dylan, overcome with shock, collapsed to the ground with a gasp, his eyes widening in a chilling blend of disbelief and horror as Leonard lay atop him, blood streaming from his mouth.

Dylan’s chest rose and fell in rapid breaths as he grappled with the reality of the situation. Shaking his head in futile denial, he uttered a desperate, “No.”

Summoning strength, he pulled Leonard away, rising with a gun in hand, directing it at James who, sprawled on the ground, wore a malevolent smirk on his battered countenance, still gripping a gun.

“That bullet was meant for you, Dylan!” he snarled with fury, his laughter echoing in manic resonance. “But killing that bastard was no problem!” he taunted, a derisive chuckle punctuating his words, before attempting to pull his trigger—only silence, eliciting a gasp of disbelief.

In the grip of fear, he glanced up at Dylan, noting the anger on his face, then promptly stood, hands raised in an a