Page 151 of Split You Open

Any sign of anger disappears.

And his eyes go lifeless.

Shit… this is it. This is the moment where my best friend kills me.

“Go ahead,” I urge as I lower my gun. “Shoot me. I would’ve given her the world but at least she’ll have those three to help her now.”

Anchor’s finger slides onto the trigger.

Fuck, he’s really going to do this.

I brace myself, ready to give up my life now that Blair has one to live.

A gun goes off and a bullet goes flying.

It’s just not from Anchor’s gun.

The bullet slams into the tree just inches over Anchor’s head. Pieces of bark go flying as we both whip around to see who the fuck is shooting at us.

There, standing on the edge of the tree line is Blair. Her gun is drawn and aimed at us while her other hand rests on her hip. The fury on her face is enough to make me cringe away. Is it stupid of me to be more afraid of Blair’s wrath than her father’s? Probably. But Anchor is at least predictable—as in I’m sure someone is going to die in his presence. With Blair, I don’t know what her next move will be. Last time she got close to me while pissed, she carved her name into my flesh.

I’m still recovering from that interaction.

Behind Blair are Rhett, Wes, and Santiago. They all watch on, their expressions unreadable in the dark.

“Blair Bear?” Anchor scowls at her. “What the hell are you⁠—”

“Was all of that true?” she interrupts coldly. “Did you really try to kill me?”

Anchor flinches and for the first time in my entire life, I watch as shame twists his features. “It’s not what it sounded like, Blair. Everything we’ve done together has been a test. Some were⁠—”

“You’re lying.”

Her accusation has him staggering a few steps back, like it physically struck him. He lowers the gun to his side as he draws in a deep breath.

“Blair Bear⁠—”

“Don’t Blair Bear me right now!” She waves her gun at him. “Gun. Holster it. Now.”

Anchor stares at his daughter, his expression pained.

As they have a stare down, I try to predict the outcome of the evening. I’m about ninety-five percent sure that Blair wouldn’t shoot her own dad. Then again, I was sure she’d never draw a weapon on him either. With her pissed, we’re all in uncharted territory right now.

Anchor must be calculating the same risk because he doesn’t move right away.

When he finally does, it’s to holster his gun.

“I would ask why you tried killing me, but your answer is probably just as fucked up as the rest of you,” she hisses, keeping her gun trained to him. “You should’ve just put a bullet in my head if you were so desperate to get me out of your hair.”

“Blair, you’re getting emotional,” Anchor says, shifting gears and going into exasperated father mode. “You know it does no good getting this way.”

Blair’s gun goes off again.

The bullet slams into the ground beside his right foot, missing by scant centimeters.

“Blair!” Anchor snaps. “This isn’t a game.”

“Neither is my life yet, apparently, you treated it as such.”