83-The Ordeals of God

There was Brent, pulling the trigger in chagrin. He looked at the chamber of his pistol which was empty, they were out of ammunition.

Randolph saw this with a grim and frantic smile and stepped closer to them, covering his wounds.

His waist was oozing with scarlet blood that soon stained the water around him.

It was as if he was desperate to fight Brent and the others to the death.

His hands trembled and his eyes were clear of the determination of a murderous maniac.

His aim was simple: to survive, take the money and leave the country. His arm was visibly shaking, but the eye of the gun was still aimed at Brent's brow.

If the shot was accurate, Brent would be dead for sure.

"Bang!"

Perhaps the recoil from the shot was too strong and Randolph missed his aim, the bullet grazing Brent's hair and flashing against the wall in a chilling flash of fire.

The shot jolted Randolph's step back a few paces.

But his wound soon adjusted to the pain of the muscle pull and he quickly adjusted himself