A hand touched her elbow.
She didn’t want to jerk her arm back because a lot of kids were in that crowd, so she just turned to look at who was trying to get her attention.
And then it was too late.
The hand closed on her arm and yanked her, and she stumbled into the crowd because she was wearing an evening gown that caught under her high-heeled shoes. She screamed as she was falling and then being dragged.
Magnus Jensen was reaching after her, but his big hand closed on air.
Ahead of her, Maxence turned back, his eyes widening with horror as she fell between people, and then she couldn’t see him anymore.
She fell toward the cement tiles, breaking her fall with her hands as the beige cobblestones rushed up at her. Her legs scrambled to get away, but she twisted to look up because a part of her did not believe this could be happening.
A cadaverous face leered over her. His sallow eyeballs and skin were indicative of liver or kidney malfunction.
Kir Sokolov held a gun in his hand and was swinging it down to point at Dree.
The crowd around them fell away as the screaming started.
Dree ducked her head and covered it with her arms as her legs still scrambled uselessly on the cobblestones and silk skirt of her gown, anticipating heavy metal slugs exploding into her flesh.
The world went dark, and a thousand pounds of suit landed on top of her. Her limbs were scraped off the pavement and bundled into a ball under the man.
The cologne was wrong. Didn’t smell like Max. Tang of gunpowder and citrus.
She opened her eyes, and the last of the sunset glowed red on the clothes of the man crouching over her, but she could see between his arm and neck.
Kir Sokolov still stood over her and aimed the gun toward them. His gaze met hers through the space between the arms, and he raised the gun to point directly at her eye.
His knuckles strained as he began to pull the trigger.
A black-coated missile slammed into Sokolov from the side, shoving him through the air.
His loose-limbed form bowed from the impact and crumpled, falling into a heap.
The gun skittered across the stone ground.
The missile reformed itself into Maxence, and he clambered to his feet, his hand closing over the gun as he stumbled forward.
Sokolov reached into his coat.
The fabric revealed another pistol in his fist.
A scream tore from her throat,“No!”
Maxence held out the gun, pointing it at where Kir Sokolov lay on the ground. “Drop it!”
Sokolov swung the gun’s muzzle toward Dree.
The gun jumped in Maxence’s hand.
A gunshot echoed over the tiles and reverberated from the palace walls before it dissipated over the Mediterranean Sea beyond the cliff.
Sokolov’s head rolled back. His body twitched.
Darkness oozed from his shattered skull and trickled between the cobblestones.
Above Dree, Magnus Jensen sprang to his feet, dragging her upward with him.
