Cracking an eye open, he’s gone.
Lifting another eye, Torin’s head isn’t back from being pulled backward by his brother.
“No,” I quickly gasp, carefully reaching for his dome and dragging him back to me.
His light gold eyes are open, and I stare back at him, absolutely terrified he’s—then he blinks.
Exhaling, I run the pads of my fingers along his skull. “Fuck, are you?—”
Pop.
Pop.
Pop.
Pop.
With each gunshot, I pull Torin’s face closer to mine, covering as much of his body as I can while I clench around him as a shield.
“McQueen…”
A broken exhale escapes my lips as I slowly pull away from Pretty Boy and find Reeve standing a few feet from where Ramsey existed.
He flexes his fingers, prompting my focus on the Glock in his palm and the perfect spot to end Ramsey himself.
“Damn. Let me help you with that.”
Reevie.
He fucking killed him. He saved his brothers.
He savedme.
“It’s okay, baby,” he says confidently, flicking his gaze over my shoulder. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”
What would exactly happen to me?
A mixture of curiosity, dread, and awareness floods through me as I slowly turn around to take in the rest of the room.
How everything juststoppedon a dime.
Ozzy is standing near the bar, tense and ready to throw down, not what I expected to see when I believed we were finally in the clear.
I continue to turn my body toward the rest of the room.
Passenger Prick.
The other mellow guy who forced me out of the basement with a gun.
Then a new body that’s stationed behind me.
Tall.
Lean.
Gingerbread-brown hair with golden eyes and boyish features.
My pulse decelerates as he fully comes into vivid memory.
