It connected.
He fell sideways, stunned for a second, just enough for her to scramble free.They both reached for the gun, hands connecting, scrambling.
The weapon fired.
The sound was deafening.She felt the pressure in her ears before the pain hit.The window cracked.Lorrie screamed.
Steve wrenched the gun free, backed up on his knees, and aimed it at Amka’s head.
Christian stared at his brother.“You’re not divorced?”
“No,” Damian said.
A gun discharged down the hallway.
Christian’s blood iced.
Then it surged.
“Amka,” he breathed.He ran, a panic taking over.One he didn’t recognize and hadn’t felt before.His boots slammed against the tile, and he hit the hallway corner hard, the sound of a woman screaming curling inside his ears.High.Panicked.Lorrie?
Going on instinct, he followed the sound and kicked open the door to the third and last room in the small hospital.He saw Steve first, kneeling, pointing a gun at Amka, breath heaving like he’d just run ten miles.Blood along his face.Eyes wild.
Then Amka.
She was on her back against the far wall.Her shirt was torn at the shoulder, her lip split, and her chest rose fast and shallow.But she was breathing, her eyes wide.
That was all Christian needed to see.
He hit Steve full force, shoulder down, fists already moving.The two of them crashed against the wall, the gun skidding across the floor.Christian drove a punch into Steve’s ribs, then another, higher, into the neck.
Steve tried to fight back.He got one hit in—glancing, sloppy.Christian didn’t care.He was inside his own head now, where it was quiet and efficient.Where every movement had a goal.
Take him down.
He slammed Steve to the ground and drove his knee into the man's chest, pinning him.
Damian flew in behind him and kicked the gun out of reach.
Steve screamed.Christian moved off the asshole.
“You good?”Damian asked, yanking Steve onto his feet.Something popped in Steve’s arm.The guy cried out, his face going stark white.
Christian didn’t answer.He was already edging toward Amka.“Hey,” he said, voice hoarse, controlled only by force of will.“Amka.You with me?”
She blinked slowly, lips parted.Blood had run from the corner of her mouth, down her chin.Her right hand trembled slightly where it gripped the floor.But her eyes were clear.Alert.“I’m okay,” she whispered.
“Bullshit,” he breathed, brushing her hair back from her face.“You’re bleeding.”
“So are you,” she said, her voice rough.
He realized then that he was.His knuckles were split open from hitting Steve.Didn’t matter.He helped her sit up carefully, one arm bracing her back.She winced but stayed conscious.
Behind them, Lorrie started sobbing.Damian barked something Christian didn’t catch, and the woman stopped.
Amka shuddered.“Steve and Lorrie are lovers.They planned to kill her husband.Steve shot at Eli that night outside the tavern, and then Steve killed the poor guy in the forest and cut out his eyes to look like the other victims.But Steve didn’t set the explosives or cut my brake lines.”
What the hell?Christian grasped her arms, his brain trying to make sense of the situation.The sniper was Steve?And the asshole had been aiming for those tourists inside the tavern?Christian should’ve looked at all angles of this.“Are you hurt?”
