"No," Owen said, his grasp tightened. "There's no way I'm letting her go anywhere with you."
"You don't know Courtney. You need to let her hand go and walk away."
"You'll have to use those guns for me to let you take her. She didn't do anything. You're mistaking her for someone else. You've been chasing us all night. I'm tired of running and I'm tired of you. Leave us alone."
"Has she told you we were mistaken? That we have the wrong person," he screamed. "Has she denied it?"
"Don't listen to them," Courtney whispered, with a quick glance. That was enough to pull the desperate man back into her web of destruction.
"She didn't do it. So, I'm not letting her go. Do what you need to do." He stood tall and remained by her side when two men crept from the darkness and grabbed the couple in one big swoop to pull them apart.
"Tell him what you did," the man demanded with the gun firmly pointed to the back of Courtney's head. "Tell him what you did. Now!"
Without fear, Courtney remained a vault.
"Tell him or I will pull the trigger now."
Courtney squeezed her eyes shut and deeply inhaled. "1996," she said. "1996 was the year of my first kill. The first time you take a life you're hit with a wave of emotions. You start off scared, and then you go into survival mode. But, when you kill to protect yourself you also feel relief. After I got away with my first murder I was hooked. You see, it's never about the victims with me. It's all a game to see how many I can get away with before they catch up with me. Look at me. I'm tiny--cute. Even if I don't get away before the police get there I always get away. They take one look at me and think I could never do the things their eyes are seeing. I always get away."
"Not this time, Courtney." He pressed the cold barrel of the gun to the side of her temple. "Game over."