“Told you to freeze, Tony. You’re coming in. This ends here,” Silas said, voice firm.
“Back off!” Faria shouted, voice cracking. “You come any closer, and she dies!”
Camara and the feds held their positions.
Faria took a step toward Silas, pushing his hostage forward with a thrust of his hips. The girl whimpered.
Silas still didn’t move his weapon. Not yet. Didn’t shout. Just looked.
Calm as sunrise. Talk him through it.
“Ain’t your day, Tony,” Silas said—his voice steady. Final.
The girl struggled against Faria’s grip. He raised his elbow higher, pushing his gun harder against her temple, giving no ground.
“Give her up, Tony. Make it easier on yourself by doing the right thing. Go down this trail, and you’re done.”
Faria staggered forward another step, pushing the terrified girl.
Without breaking his stare, Silas raised his gun and sighted down the barrel. The gun was steady. He stood comfortably with a two-handed grip. Guns were tools—familiar, reliable, accurate.
“Final warning. Put that gun down, Tony,” he said, thumb easing back the hammer, “or I’ll put you down.”
No one moved. Silas felt the tension frozen all around him, but he was entirely focused.
Faria still didn’t yield.
Silas concentrated on Faria’s gun hand. There was a twitch. The muzzle shifted, just enough.
Silas didn’t hesitate.
One shot.
Boom.
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