Buckshot: Roulette

“Third time’s the charm,” he whispered.

Click.

Leo’s hand trembled as he wrapped his fingers around the forestock. The weight was obscene. He looked at the muzzle. A dark circle, like a blind, staring eye. buckshot roulette

The Dealer didn’t react. He just reached under the table, took the shotgun, and reloaded. Click. Click. Click. He racked the slide. Two hot shells in the magazine now. “Third time’s the charm,” he whispered

Leo vomited onto the table. Marta didn’t flinch. She watched the blood pool across the oak, dripping onto the floor in a slow, rhythmic tap tap tap . The weight was obscene

The Dealer’s head vaporized. The mountain collapsed.

“Buckshot roulette,” he said, voice a gravel pit. “Not your pussy Russian game with one bullet. We got buckshot. One shell, it’s full of number-four buck. Nine pellets. The rest are blanks. You pull the trigger on the hot one, you don’t get a little .22 in the dome. You get your head turned into a canoe.”