Let The Rain Fall
Part of him for all these years couldn't have cared less if he died. Hell, it probably would've been easier. A release, an escape from the miserable excuse for a life he had lived. But the irony of it was he'd give anything at this moment not to die. Not here, not now, not right in front of her.
She was screaming for him to stand up and fight, begging to spare his life. There was no point. It would only hasten his impending demise if he fought back again, and cut her own tragic life short. They wouldn't kill her, or that was what he hoped if he cooperated. If he'd believed in a god he'd have prayed, prayed that she would survive and that she'd move on from this. But all he could do was kneel there in the mud, listening to her cries.
He turned his head and told her to close her eyes. He didn't want her to watch, to see, but he knew she'd never listen. She always did the opposite of what she was told to do. The memory of the hunt, the hunt she was forbidden to go on, but tagged along behind anyways flashed before his eyes. Her fearful and panicky look as the hood was pulled off her head, the pleading in her eyes for help. How completely helpless he felt when the gun was pointed at her, and he couldn't do a thing to stop it. He could only stand there and watch. Much like she was doing at this very second.
He met her gaze now and despite the pouring rain he could see every tear that streamed down her beautiful face, a face that showed a mixture of grief, desperation, and a crumbling defiance. It was so unlike her, it was almost painful to see her strong-will and confidence shatter to pieces right in front of him. He couldn't bare to watch.
His head slowly swung back, facing away from her, but he could still hear the sobs that racked her body. Then he spoke, that this was for his wife, as the bullet loaded into the chamber with an audible click. He wasn't even responsible for that death, but revenge was needed regardless of his innocence. But he understood the need for revenge; he himself had been seeking it since he was a boy. And if she'd been shot that night of the hunt he would have extracted vengeance on anyone who was involved or knew of it, whether their hands were clean or not.
So he understood why he had to die, but he wished that he wouldn't. For her sake. To save her from the pain. That was when he heard the crackle of the walkie-talkie over the patter of the rainfall.