“I’m sorry,” I said, and gripped the g*n. “But I—I can’t let you do it. And I think we both know why.”
She looked at me somewhat blankly before getting up slowly and walking to the edge of the breaker. “And so you’re just going to casually blow me away, is that it? Just air me out, as they say?” She laughed, but when she turned to face me her eyes were full of compassion, not malice. “And you think you can really do that? Just whiff me out like a match?” She shook her head. “No you can’t, Francis. I know you better than that—or I’d never come with you in the first place. Please. Put down the g*n. You’re not a murderer. Not even they could turn you into one. You know that.”
I stood but kept the pistol trained on her, moving toward her slowly, closing the gap between us. “I’m not just goin
