Carson held up one palm, placating him. “Fine, Eugene. Just calm down.”
“You think you’re so noble,” Eugene sneered. “The hero cop. Saving victims. But you couldn’t save your sister, could you? Couldn’t protect her when it mattered.”
The words hit like bullets. But Carson kept his face neutral. “No. I couldn’t. And I’ve spent nineteen years trying to make up for it. But you know what I learned?” He took another step closer. “Some people can’t be saved. Some people are just broken beyond repair. And you, Eugene? You’re one of them.”
Eugene’s face flushed with rage. “Shut up.”
“You blame everyone else for your problems. Your uncle. Nora’s father. Me. But the truth is, you’re just a coward who can’t take responsibility for his own choices.” Another step. “You had a chance at a normal life. But you chose obsession. You chose revenge. You chose to become a monster.”
“I said shut up!”
“Make me.”
Eugene’s hand moved toward the trigger.
Everything happened at once.
Carson lunged forward, closing the distance in two strides. His hand grabbed Eugene’s wrist—the one on the trigger—and wrenched it away from the vest.
They went down hard, grappling on the pavement. Carson used every bit of his training, every bit of his desperation, to keep Eugene’s hand away from that trigger.
“Shoot him!” Eugene screamed. “If you shoot me, my hand relaxes and the bomb goes off!”
The officers couldn’t risk it. Carson was too close. And Eugene was right—a dead man’s switch meant if his hand loosened, they all died.
Carson slammed Eugene’s hand against the pavement once, twice, trying to make him drop the trigger. But Eugene held on with manic strength, laughing.
“We both die, Detective! Is she worth it? Is saving her worth your life?”
“Yes,” Carson growled. “She is.”
He slammed Eugene’s hand down a third time. The trigger flew from his grasp, skittering across the pavement.
For one terrible moment, Carson thought it would detonate anyway.
But nothing happened.
“It’s a fake,” Finn’s voice called out. “The vest is fake!”
Carson’s head snapped up. Finn was crouched near the trigger device, examining it.
“There’s no receiver,” Finn said. “No actual explosives. It’s all for show.”
Rage flooded through Carson. Eugene had been bluffing. All of it—the vest, the threat, the suicide mission—had been a desperate attempt to get close enough to Nora.
Carson flipped Eugene onto his stomach and cuffed him with more force than necessary. “You’re done. No more escapes. No more games. You’re done.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Eugene spat, blood on his lips from where his face had hit the pavement. “I got what I wanted. I made her afraid. I made her suffer. That’s what she deserved.”
Carson hauled him to his feet and shoved him toward the waiting officers. “Get him out of my sight before I do something I’ll regret.”
They dragged Eugene away, still ranting about revenge and justice and how Nora deserved everything she’d gotten.
Carson turned to the truck. Nora was still inside, curled up in the passenger seat, shaking violently.
He opened the door. “It’s over. He’s gone.”
She looked at him with wide, terrified eyes. “The bomb—”
