A muffled cry carries over the breeze. Did that come from Nat’s? I peer up at her house. No lights. No movement that I can see.
Maybe I imagined the whole thing. I was holding Tessa’s body in my dreams. That one, terrible night has been haunting me lately. The night everything changed. The night I lost everything.
A woman screams. Nat’s in trouble. Fear squeezes my heart in a vise. She’s all alone up there.
I take off at a run. This isn’t a dream. This is very,veryreal.
Her place is less than a quarter mile away, but the steep hillside is covered with pieces of driftwood, rocks, and shifting, sandy soil. My foot lands wrong, and I go down. Something sharp slices my knee, but I don’t care. I have to get to her.
Her house is only a hundred yards away. A dullthudsounds from somewhere in the trees. Then another. A branch snaps. Fists land on soft flesh. Again and again and again.
“Why won’t you stay down?” a man snaps.
“You…first.” Nat’s voice is strained. Higher pitched than it should be. Almost…thin. She gasps, then whimpers softly.
I creep closer. Years of training, and I’m still light on my feet. Utterly silent when I need to be. It’s second nature, despite being a civilian for more than a decade.
A flash of light and another shot. I’m close now. Thirty yards. Twenty. I can hear Nat’s ragged breathing. Uneven footsteps crash through the underbrush. They’re on the move. Both of them. Their shadows are so close together. He’s almost on top of her.
Gripping the knife like it’s an extension of my hand, I focus on Nat’s attacker. He doesn’t know I’m here. Neither does she. They’re too focused on each other. The crescent moon provides just enough light for me to see his outline. He’s built. Bulky, but maybe an inch shorter than I am. Dressed all in black. Natstaggers behind a tree. She’s wearing a light blue t-shirt and pale gray pants. Her arms are bare. She can’t hide in the darkness like he can.
Tree bark splinters with his next shot. “If I have to chase you again?—”
“Fuck you—shit!” Nat yelps as the man grabs her by the hair and throws her to the ground. She tries to roll away, but he aims a swift kick to her stomach.
Retching, Nat curls in on herself.
“You were supposed to die eight years ago, bitch. Say hi to your big brother.”
I don’t give a shit about stealth now. Not when he jabs the pistol against her temple.
The asshole must hear me a second before I sink the blade into his shoulder. His pained cry is music to my ears. Except I missed the mark. I was going for his neck. His carotid artery to be precise.
Wrenching the knife free, I adjust my grip. He sweeps his leg back and catches me in the shins. Off balance, I only graze his arm. Nat tries to get up, but collapses before she makes it to her feet.
The gunman swings around, ready to fire. But he’s losing blood. A lot of it. Maybe enough to be fatal if I can keep him focused on me. Or I’ll get to slide the knife across his throat and watch him die.
I tuck and roll, coming up five feet away. “You want a fight? Bring it.”
He rushes me. I’m not fast enough to sidestep his tackle. We hit the ground together. The impact drives the breath from my body. A tree branch digs into my back, into the old injury that never fully healed. Two vertebrae pop. My left leg starts to tingle, and for too long, I can’t move.
Shit. Fuck. Not now. Notnow!
“Should have stayed out of it, gramps.”
A sliver of moonlight glints off the barrel of the gun as he takes aim. My diaphragm spasms. Air floods my lungs. I rear up, and the knife sinks into the soft flesh of his thigh. His eyes roll back. Dropping the pistol, he scrambles to pull the blade from his body.
Fuck. He’s still not going down. My left leg is almost useless, but I aim an uppercut to his balls. A thin cry escapes his lips, and he falls to his knees.
“Respect…your elders…son,” I grit out.
Asshole still isn’t giving up. He fumbles on the ground, then slams a rock into my ribs. Thecrackof bone reverberates through me. For a few seconds, the world turns soft and fuzzy. Nat screams and leaps onto his back. Her fingernails rake down his face, leaving bloody trails on his cheeks. He lets out a roar, staggers to his feet, and slams her back into the closest tree.
She slides to the ground, wheezing.
Pine needles crunch under my fingers. The grip of the gun is sticky with blood. Getting up is harder than it should be. My knee threatens to buckle, but I draw down on the asshole. I’m in too much pain. My first shot goes wide.
I can do this.
