Dominic groaned, a sound of pure agony, but he did not let go.

With a final, desperate heave, Dominic slammed Leo’s hand against a protruding tree root.

The silver pistol slipped from Leo’s fingers, sliding through the mud.

I kicked the gun hard, watching it skid over the stone wall and vanish into the black depths of the lake.

Leo realized his weapon was gone and tried to scramble backward, but Dominic was already on top of him.

Dominic pressed a heavy knees into Leo’s chest, pinning him to the wet earth.

He pulled a black revolver from his waistband and pressed the cold muzzle against Leo’s chin.

“Move, and I will end this right here,” Dominic growled, his breath coming in ragged, bloody gasps.

Leo lay still, his eyes wide in the pale light of the discarded flashlight on the ground.

“You don’t have the stomach to kill your own brother, Dominic,” Leo spat, though his voice shook.

“Try me,” Dominic whispered.

The silence that followed was heavy, filled only with the sound of the rain and Dominic’s labored breathing.