I move.
No time to think. No time to aim again. There’s only the sight of her small body falling and the knowledge that I’m not letting her skull meet asphalt.
I holster the gun on the run and lunge.
The world narrows to the sound of my boots pounding and the white-noise roar in my ears.
I don’t catch her clean this time. I get an arm under her shoulders and twist, taking most of the impact in my own knees and shoulder as we hit the ground. Her head still clips my chest instead of concrete.
Pain explodes down my arm.
I don’t care.
Behind me, a car door slams. Engine revs climb.
“Stop!” Jack’s voice shreds the air. A second shot rings out, then a third, sparking off metal as the sedan fishtails at the mouth of the alley.
Tires squeal. Rubber burns.
I get one brief look over my shoulder: Henry half-fallen into the driver’s seat, one hand clamped to his bleeding leg, the other white-knuckled on the wheel.
Then he’s gone, the car jerking out into the street and disappearing in a smear of taillights.
“Fuck!” Jack roars. “Unit Seven, this is Brady, suspect vehicle fleeing north on Maple, dark sedan, partial plate—three, Kilo—” His voice fades as he takes off after the car, boots pounding toward the street. “I’m in pursuit!”
I don’t bother watching him go.
All my attention is on the woman in my arms.
Twig’s limp against me, head lolling, elf hat gone somewhere between the stockroom and hell. Her striped tights are filthy, one knee scraped, a faint red line on her neck where he stuck her.
“Tally,” I say, voice ragged. “Tallulah, look at me.”
Nothing.
I shift, cradling the back of her head in my palm, fingers threading into her hair so I can feel heat, life, anything.
“Baby?” I press. “Give me something, love.”
Nothing.
“Shit,” I whisper.
I press two fingers to her throat.
Pulse. Fast, thready, but there.
Her breathing is shallow, but it’s there too—a faint hitch against my chest.
“Kelly!” Jack’s voice comes faintly over comms now, panting. “He’s in a vehicle—I’ve got units converging. Status on Twig?”
“I’ve got her,” I say, words rough. “He sedated her. Leg wound on him—your shot landed. He dropped her and ran.”
A string of curses crackles in my ear.
“Stay with her,” Jack snaps. “Maris is headed your way, EMS en route. Do not chase. Repeat, do not chase. I’ve got the road.”
“As if I’m lettin’ go of her now,” I growl.
