Then he’s on me.
A heavy weight across my hips and two meaty hands sealed around my throat.
His fingers interlock and suddenly he’s crushing my windpipe with all his might.
Coldness and amusement flare in the stranger’s eyes as he stares down at me, choking the life out of me.
I don’t know him.
I don’t recognize him.
Why does he want to kill me so badly? What did I do?
It’s such a distant thought that cuts clear through the fogged panic in my mind as he chokes the life out of me, shaking me violently a few times as if to entice death to come faster.
This man and the ones from the nightclub.
What did I do to deserve this?
Why me?
Suddenly, the hands vanish from my throat and sweet, clear air pours into my lungs with eyewatering clarity.
It hurts, like each mouthful of air contains razor blades that tear up my throat on the way down, but it’s worth it.
I gasp and gasp, mouthful after mouthful of air while coughing and choking.
My tongue swells against the roof of my mouth as if my body is trying to warn me about too much air, but I’m panting desperately.
Where did he go?
My wrist jolts painfully and through my tears, I spot Falco.
He’s using a shard of tile slate that must have dislodged from the roof of the house in the explosion.
He brandishes it like a dagger, tearing the edge through the man’s throat like a fine blade.
Blood pours like a waterfall from the man’s throat, covering Falco’s hands and splashing my own while soaking into the grass below.
My stomach burns and coils in on itself, then I gag and spew up last night’s noodles.
“Aerin.” Falco’s back in front of me, cupping my face with one bloodied hand while I cough and gag.
“I’m sorry,” I choke. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”
“Don’t.”
“You—you got shot, oh my god I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”
“Aerin!” He barks my name sharply, but his voice isn’t as loud as it could be. We lock gazes and pain writes across his face in waves. “We have to get to the car.”
I nod slowly and scramble to my feet. Falco moves more slowly. He’s in pain, he’s been shot and god knows what else.
Get to the car. “Wait…what car?”
“Trust me,” Falco gasps.
Easy.
