I look around, needing something, anything to help him.
My eyes fall onto the dead man lying next to my hiding place.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper as I crawl forward and pry the handgun from his fingers.
I have to help them, though. I have to do my part. The only reason these men are here is to take me. I’m the cause of all of this. My father is. But it falls on me.
I crawl to the edge of the crate and lift the gun. My hands shake as I aim it at one of the rival men. My finger won’t pull the trigger. I can’t do it. I can’t kill someone.
Adrian spins to help Antonio, who gets shot in the leg.
Behind him, I see Rat running forward. He runs right next to the crate I am behind. So close. Close enough that even I wouldn’t miss if I were to shoot him. My heart races, thinking about pulling the trigger. But it’s not until he lifts his gun and takes aim at Adrian that all fear and all doubt just evaporates.
Rat has a clear shot, and no one is in his way.
There’s no time to scream, there’s no time to do anything except to save the man I love.
So, I stand up. I take my aim, take a breath, and I pull the trigger.
Rat’s face explodes inward. He’s so close that I seeeveryhorrific detail of it. My stomach lurches.
Adrian’s eyes shoot toward me, realizing that I’m no longer hiding.
He sees the gun in my hand and follows the direction of my aim. He sees Rat lying on the floor near me, faceless.
I choke, fighting vomit. But someone else is running towards Rat now, angry, taking aiming at Adrian, thinking he killed him.
Without hesitation, I take another life.
Adrian is still covering Antonio while the other men drag him behind some crates on the other side of the warehouse.
The shooting dies down.
The rivals lie scattered across the floor in torn pieces.
On shaking legs, I walk out from behind the crates, my eyes dragging over the gory scene around me.
I see Rodion, his lifeless eyes staring upward at nothing.
Adrian grabs me in his arms and holds me against him, and I snap back into myself.
“He almost shot you!” I yelp. “I had to kill him. I had to…”
“You saved my life, kitten. If you didn’t do that, I would be dead. You saved me.”
He lifts me in his arms, and I drop the gun to the floor.
Antonio is standing, leaning on some crates.
He raises his brows at Adrian. “That’s one hell of a wife you have there,” he scoffs. “That was a brave shot!”
“Go to the hospital before you bleed out. Someone get a belt around this man’s leg,” Adrian shouts.
Antonio shakes his head. “It’s a surface wound, man. Get her out of here. She shouldn’t have to see this. Take her home,” he says. “I’ll handle this shit.”
Adrian doesn’t argue. He keeps me cradled in his arms with my face pressed against his chest as he carries me past the carnage and out to the car.
When we get home, he carries me straight to the shower, and we stand beneath it, me not wanting to let him go, as he slowly undresses me and lets my clothing fall to the shower fall.
