Gun against his scalp, Dexter's feet rooted into the ground. The Azarean female loomed in the corner of his eye, a cold and calculating demeanor with an undefinable expression behind a lens. She hadn't killed him yet, which could only mean one thing.

His thoughts were a loop of his last exchange with Jessica. Though it could have and probably should have been different, he was grateful.

A deafening bang accompanied a liquid sensation on his cheek. He flinched over his ...