His gun comes up.
He aims at me first.
Then shifts — slow, casual, measured. Toward Molly.
“No,” I say, and it comes out rough, cracked, real.
Molly’s eyes wide, but not with fear. With fury. Like she’s about to leap the bar and rip Midnight’s face off with her teeth.
But she’s boxed in; every angle covered by the dozen guns trained on her.
I did that to her. She’s in this mess because of my decisions.
Midnight’s finger crooks around the trigger.
Something in me crystalizes into something solid, sure, real; I hurt her; I used her; I shattered something she guarded for a reason — her heart.
I can’t undo any of the damage I did.
But I can do one thing that matters: I can keep her alive.
My feet move before the thought finishes forming.
Molly’s voice snaps like a whip. “Evan, no!”
Midnight’s eyes flash with delighted surprise, as if he can’t believe how easy this is.
The world narrows to the black circle of the barrel, to Molly’s face, to the split second where I can choose what kind of man I die as. I throw myself between them.
I fill the space in front of her like it’s sacred.
Midnight’s finger tightens.
The gunshot cracks.
Chapter Forty-Two
Molly
I drop to the ground like gravity just grabbed me by the throat.
Evan hits the floor hard, his shoulder already blooming red through his shirt, blood slicking my palms as I drag him by the collar and haul him into the narrow trench of space behind the wood, between the bar counter and the liquor shelves. We shelter behind the thick, polished oak while the crack of gunfire tears through the room.
Above us, glass shatters, bottles explode, the mirror behind the shelves spiderwebs, then rains down in glittering silvery fragments. The Noble Fir —mybar — turns into a storm of splinters and smoke and panic.
“Stay down, you stupid, stupid man!” I bark, not sure why I’m yelling when my face is right next to his.
He grits his teeth, one hand clamped over the wound as if he can hold himself together by force.
“Yes, ma’am,” he growls, voice tight.
A round punches one of the shelf supports behind me, sending the whole tower collapsing and blasting my cheek with a chunk of glass. I flinch, taste copper, pull out the offending shard, and keep my focus on the job: keeping us alive. First, I shove my fist into Evan’s chest and force him flatter.
“Stay. The. Fuck. Down.” After a second, I add, “Please.”
“I just took a bullet,” he snaps. “I’m not exactly going to get the fuck up and dance.”
“Stay still,” I repeat, deadly calm. “You handsome idiot. And thank you for taking that bullet… That was… stupid, but nice.”
