If I took this chance, and I lost, then maybe that didn’t mean as much to me as it should, maybe I’d say the risk was worth it, maybe I could even convince myself that Jack wouldn’t realize I’d broken my promise. But one thing I did know. If I went down, Wilkes would get away. He’d have no reason to hang around, and any chance that someone else would catch him—Jack, Quinn, Felix, Evelyn, the cops—would evaporate. He’d be free again, all because I couldn’t fight that need to stop running and strike back.

Best thing I could do was stall him. Wait for help to arrive. But the yard wasn’t that big, I was wounded, and he still had time to get off plenty more rounds. Eventually a shot would be serious enough to take me down just long enough for him to walk over and put a bullet through my head.

Goddamn it, if only I had my gun! Why couldn’t I see it out there? Why couldn’t I trip over it racing across the yard? If I had that, I could take the upper hand, put a bullet into this bastard so fast—

But I didn’t have a gun and all the wishing and raging in the world wouldn’t change that. Those same flickering flames that were making it hard for Wilkes to see me were making it impossible for me to see a black gun on the ground. Even if I could find it, would it work after the fall? Then there was my wrist. I could brace my hand or shoot with my left, but both would throw off my reflexes and accuracy. Too many ifs. I couldn’t waste time—and focus—searching for the gun.

One thing I knew for certain: from now on, I was wearing a backup weapon.

I dove and weaved through the perimeter shrubs, missing some shots, getting gazed or hit in the chest armor by others. With every few steps, I stumbled. Any minute now, my ankle would give out for good.

How many shots had he taken? My brain blurted an answer. Seven—Another pffttt just above my head. Eight. He had ten rounds. Eleven if he’d chambered a round and topped up. Plus he’d be able to reload quickly, and probably even carried a backup weapon. Making him run out of ammo sounds good in the movies, but it wasn’t going to work here.

So now what? Jack’s voice echoed in my head, and I knew what he’d say. Run.