162 The gunfire

Silas went rigid, his grip loosening. He was momentarily shocked. Patrick's gun gleamed in the moonlight, the barrel pressed firmly against his forehead. A smirk replaced his shock. Silas held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, but his eyes gleamed with cunningness.

"You lost, Patrick," he declared proudly. "You promised you wouldn't use your weapon. But see, you are pointing your gun at me. Are you now backing away from your words?" 

A dark flush crept up Patrick's neck. He pressed the gun even harder against Silas's forehead, the metal biting into his skin. "Shut your damn mouth," he snarled, his face scrunching up in annoyance. "I can finish you in a second."

"Quite the fall from grace," Silas scoffed. "I didn't know a man who is so firm about his rules can easily break his promise. I've thought highly about you. Seems you're no better than the common thugs – all bark and impulsive violence."