Max shot several times, or at least he tried, but there was only a click after another. He inspected the weapon. Damned the bastard, he thought when he saw what the problem was. Who with an ounce of sense carried a gun loaded with one single, miserable bullet?

He’d have to use something else. Actually, this was the perfect excuse to give her some of her own medicine. Scanning the room, he found nothing useful, so he would have to leave her here while he found an adequate… implement.

There was a broom outside.

No. That would be messy. He could do better. A piece of string was all he needed. There wasn’t time to do everything he wanted right now, but he would still enjoy seeing her eyes bulge at the realisation, the awareness that she was dying.

If he didn’t...

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