Five
Logan adds.
“I don’t want your scraps of shares. I want money, not your leftovers,” he boasts, pointing the rifle at Sam.
Sam growls, crouches on all fours, preparing to attack.
“If I were you, I’d think twice,” he warns, and Sam sees the warning in his eyes. “Laila sends her regards—from hell.”
The last word makes my heart race. Everything slows around me. I feel my vision blur.
Suddenly, a silver bullet, impossible from an AK-47, streaks toward Sam, defying the laws of time.