Chapter Fourteen:
He carefully followed her through the house he had never been in. Her long hair swung slightly as she ran through the corridors. She stopped in the large study. In a chair in front of an enormous desk sat a man who appeared dead. She pulled out a gun and took aim at the dead man's head.
He swiftly looked around him and found another pistol lying discarded on a shelf. He cocked it and took aim at her. She turned to look at him. "Skinner," she said. "What are you doing?"
"Drop your gun," he ordered. She complied. The pistol clattered to the floor. Skinner kicked it away. "On your knees." She obeyed. He brought his own pistol to her throat. She started crying. "Hands where I can see them."
Sobbing quietly, Kathryn brought her hands to her chest and clutched at her necklace. "Rodney, please…" she whispered.
"No," he said, tears rolling down his cheeks as well. "I can't trust you. If I can't trust you, the League can't trust you. And the agreement was if the League couldn't trust someone, they couldn't be a part of the League."
"Rodney, don't do this…"
He dug the pistol harder into her throat. "Shut up!" he ordered. "However, if the person was part of the League before the distrust spread through the other members, the distrusted one would have to be disposed of."
"Gods, Rodney, listen to yourself!" she said, quickly pulling the pistol from her throat. "Do you even understand what you're saying?"
Skinner fought with her to regain complete control of the weapon. "I understand perfectly well, wench!" he spat. Then the pistol fired. She cried out in pain. He panicked and fled.