The barrel is colder than anything I’ve ever felt. Colder than the wind biting at my arms. Colder than the marble that was beneath my feet only moments ago. It just settles there, and I know with absolute certainty: he means to pull the trigger.
I shut my eyes, preparing.
Preparing as much as a person can, I suppose. And I wait for it, wait for the feeling of death.
But instead, a weight slams into me.
Hard.
I’m thrown to the side, the world spinning in a blur of frost and fear, and we hit the ground with a crack. Someone lands on top of me, shielding me completely.
And for a breathless, fractured second, I can’t move.
“Addie.”
My eyes fly open.
Kym.
It’s Kym.
She’s crouched over me, her arms braced, her face barely inches from mine. And her expression…god, her expression.
She looks terrified. Gutted. Fierce. All at once.
And I can hardly believe it. Rational, logical Kym. Constantly calculating Kym.I only speak when I have something to sayKym. That same Kym has just thrown herself in front of a gun for me.
“Kym—” I gasp, but she’s already looking up.
At Anderson.
At Paris.
And her voice is steady when she says, “You’re out of your damn mind.”
Anderson’s smile doesn’t falter, but the gun shifts—clicks.
Aimed now.
At her.
I move at the same time she does. Fast. Desperate. There’s no time to think, only instinct. My hands shove at her shoulder just as she pushes me back, both of us trying to shield the other.
But the shot never lands.
Because another, single shot rings out first, from somewhere behind us. And Anderson jerks violently to the side, his body twisting mid-step as a bullet tears into his shoulder. He drops to one knee, a choked sound tearing from his throat.
And from the shadows behind the hedge, Will steps out, gun still raised.
“Step away from her,” Will says, his voice low, steady. Deadly.
Anderson, panting now, raises his gun again.
Will doesn’t hesitate.
He moves.
And he’s fast, faster than I’ve ever seen him, as he throws himself in front of her.
