Page 134 of Until the End

A cracking thud of wood on wood smashed in where his skull would’ve been. Blocking the next blow, Castle’s forearm bore the full brunt of the strike, agony blooming in the bone.

Another hit like that would break something. Castle swung his right elbow, hand back toward his head. It collided with Sanborn’s jaw, leaving him stunned, staggering. Seizing the brief advantage, Castle knocked the wood block loose.

With a blink, the upper hand was gone. Sanborn charged him, growling, eyes ablaze, throwing both men back into the water. The chief was fast and relentless, clawing at his eyes, hurling wicked punches.

Castle swung, but the cut on his bad hand prevented him from bringing his thumb in.

Almost as if sensing the vulnerability, Sanborn grabbed Castle’s extended thumb, yanked back, and twisted.

Under the water, Castle gave a guttural, agonized scream, taking water into his lungs. But he was a SEAL, part fish.

They thrashed in a tangle, kneeing each other, using their elbows as deadly weapons.

He had to break free, even for an instant. Castle slammed his forehead into the chief’s, repeated the headbutt, and kicked out with all his strength.

Breaking the surface of the water, he came up for air. A deep lungful. Spotting shore, he made a beeline to it, hauling himself up and out onto the land. His gaze darted over the grass.

The gun was a dull glint in the light. He grabbed it, raising the weapon in one sweeping motion, and spun.

But Sanborn already had him dead to rights—locked in the sights of a second weapon. A Beretta Bobcat. Sanborn’s backup weapon that he kept in an ankle holster.

Every memory Castle had of Sanborn flashed before him—the good, the bad, the treasured—leading here. To this moment that’d become inevitable when Castle had fallen for Kit and veered off course, putting two high-speed trains on the same track headed for this collision.

The world slowed and distilled to one thing—the steely, fixed look in Sanborn’s eyes. He radiated pure menace.

All Castle heard was the roar of his raging pulse, the ragged inhalation of his breath.

His gut drew up tight as a drum, heart slamming against his chest. Instinct beat through him, driving his reflexes, and training took over.

Castle fired.

The whisper of the bullet spitting from the suppressor stung his ears as he saw it. The chief had moved his finger off the trigger.

Sanborn caught the bullet in the chest by his collarbone. The impact knocked him backward into the water, his arms flailing out wide as he fell.

Chaos erupted inside Castle. It had happened so fast, had only taken three heartbeats. He ran to him, treading over quickly.

The water around him darkened, suffused with blood.

Castle scooped Sanborn into his arms and pressed down on the chief’s wound to slow the bleeding. A major artery had been hit. God, the shot was fatal.

Blood spurted between Castle’s fingers. There was nothing that could be done.

“Why didn’t you shoot?” Castle’s voice was rough with pain. Sanborn had had him and could’ve taken him out first.

“The future. You. Knox. What’s it all for if not the future?”

Tears welled in Castle’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”

For once in his life, why couldn’t his aim have been less true, missed the mark?

“I’m glad it was you, son.” Sanborn clasped Castle’s wrist and squeezed. Affection filled his eyes.

Castle held him tighter, longing to rewind the last few seconds.

“Do something for me. Blame Khan. Don’t…don’t tell them it was me.” Blood trickled from his lips. “It’ll hurt the Gray Box.” He drew a shallow breath. “Knox. He’s the best of us. Light in the darkness. Bring him. Home.”

“I will.” The wound gushed beneath Castle’s palm and he pressed down harder.