“Because—”
Because I admired him.
Because in another life, I could have loved him.
Because he’d protected me when he didn’t have to, saved me when it would have been easier to let me drown.
Because I couldn’t bear to see him die for the crime of loving me.
“Just move,” I said instead.
We made it across three rooftops before the guards found us again. They had split up, one climbing while the others circled below. The one on the rooftops was fast—faster than Kazashita could ever hope to be, especially in his condition.
We dropped back to street level, Kazashita barely managing the landing, his ankle twisting as he hit the ground.
He went down hard.
“Stop!” a voice boomed above us.
I pulled Kazashita to his feet, threw his arm over my shoulders, half carrying him now.
But we were too slow.
The guards were converging, their footsteps thundering closer.
There was an intersection ahead. If we could just reach it, lose them in the maze of streets—
Movement to our right.
A fourth guard stepped out from an alley. This one carried something different.
Not akatana.
A crossbow.
Time slowed to nothing.
I saw the guard raise the weapon, saw him sight down the bolt.
Saw his finger move to the trigger.
“No—” I screamed.
Thetwangof the bowstring split the night.
Kazashita jerked against me, a sound escaping his lips, more surprise than pain.
We both looked down, both saw the bolt protruding from his chest just below his ribs, blood already spreading dark across his shirt.
His legs gave out.
I went down with him, catching his weight, lowering him as gently as I could. His blood was hot against my hands. There was so much of it, too much, pooling beneath us and soaking into the earth.
“Kazi—no, no, no—”
I pressed my hands against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, but the bolt had gone deep, too deep.
Samurai surrounded us, swords still drawn, but I didn’t care. I looked up at them, at their masked faces, and screamed, “Get help! Get a physician! Now!”
