I’m out of the door and sprinting down the hall before I can stop myself. My bare feet thud into the rough carpet, and I smash the button for the elevator.
What are you doing, Ella?
“I just need to tell him I forgive him.”
Why? What’s the point?
I jab the elevator button as fast as I can, but it’s on the bottom floor and not budging. I take the stairs instead and thunder down the concrete steps, the cold working its waythrough my bare soles. They won’t be in Barnaby’s apartment; they’ll be outside, or even …
Gone. Long gone!
I speed down the stairs, heart in my throat, my tears forgotten because I just have to tell him. At least then, it’ll be one less regret.
The lobby is empty, and I push open the heavy glass doors and step out onto the street. It’s quiet, the night warm, and I look from left to right. Cars pass, and I don’t know which way to go. Which way would he have gone?
Sirens scream in the distance. My dad getting closer.
And then I see Asher.
Standing at the entrance to the alley by the building, a bag by his feet, his hood up.
“Asher!”
He looks over at me. I let out a sob as he closes the gap between us and I throw myself into his arms, legs around his waist, holding onto him tightly.
His arms are strong around me, holding my body to his. “What are you doing? You need to be inside.”
“I couldn’t let you go without …” He places me on my feet, and I look up into his handsome face. His tears are dry now, but his eyes are still slightly rimmed red, and I reach up and cup his face. “Asher?—”
His gaze flicks behind me, and he crushes our bodies together. My front collides with his, and for a moment, I think I’ve fallen for it all. I think this is the moment he’ll kill me, push a knife into my stomach, squeeze the breath from my lungs, but he wraps his arms around me, twisting my body away from the street.
The world explodes.
Bullets ring through the air. I scream and cover my head, Asher’s body pressed to mine, his arms tight aroundme. The car windows behind us shatter and spit across the street. People scream. Alarms sound. The sirens get closer.
I fall to my knees, the sidewalk hard, pain shooting through my thighs. Asher keeps his arms around me, never once letting his embrace slip, and I cling to him.
And when it finally stops, I can hardly breathe.
I uncover my head. Alarms echo. A car speeds away. The sirens close in. We’re both on our knees, glass all around us.
“Are you okay?” Asher asks, panting.
“I think so,” I say, and then he stumbles, pressing his hand to the sidewalk. “Asher?” He falls onto his side, and I place my hand on his chest, my skin instantly warm and damp. Blood. So much blood. “Oh, God.”
Asher falls onto his back, his breathing already shallow, face paling. My palm is fixed against the gunshot wound, blood spilling through my fingers thick and fast.
“It’s okay,” I whisper desperately, glancing around. Tears blur my surroundings, but there are people on the other side of the street. “Help!” My voice cracks, and I try to clear it, but I’m seconds from breaking in two. “Help us, please!”
“Ella.” Asher takes hold of my hand, our touch sticky with blood. “You have to go. It isn’t safe.”
“I’m not leaving you,” I insist, wiping away my tears with the back of my hand. “I’m staying right here. I’m staying here, and you’ll be fine.”
He watches me, his light blue eyes so focused despite the pain he must be in. He blinks slowly, lips parting. “Please, Ella.”
My lips tremble, and I swallow the lump in my throat. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Glass crunches behind me and I turn, my heart lifting at the hope someone has come to help.
