Chloe struggled violently in the man's grip. Her eyes were so red they looked ready to bleed. She was cursing, shouting, crying. I heard the fear in her voice. That fear wasn't for herself. It was for me.
She was afraid I would die. That was enough. That was enough.
I took another step. Two more steps would put me dead center in the clearing. If the sniper upstairs fired now, I'd have nowhere to hide.
But if this was the price for Chloe and Emily to survive, I'd pay it.
The man raised his gun, barrel aimed at my chest. At this range, one squeeze of the trigger and the bullet would tear straight through my heart.
But in that instant, Chloe moved.
She pulled Emily tighter into her arms, freed up one leg, and kicked hard at the back of the man's knee. She didn't have much strength—nothing compared to these battlefield veterans. But her angle was vicious, hitting the most vulnerable ligament behind the kneecap.
Chloe created a perfect opening. The man's knee buckled, and his whole center of gravity pitched forward.
One second of opportunity.
I launched myself, rolled, grabbed the gun from the ground, and pulled the trigger. Hit him square in the chest. The man's body was already falling backward before he could react.
When I pushed myself up from the ground, the gunshot wound inmy left shoulder tore with searing pain. But I didn't have time to care. Chloe was on her knees holding Emily, trembling all over. She looked up at me, face covered in tears, lips shaking.
"Don't come over!" I shouted. Because she was standing up. Her eyes told me she wanted to run toward me. But the space between her position and mine was open ground with no cover, and there was still at least one sniper upstairs. "Get down! Stay there!"
Too late.
She was already on her feet. She took a step toward me.
The gun upstairs fired.
I threw myself forward. With every bit of strength I had left, I slammed into Chloe from the side. My arms wrapped around her and Emily, my body rotating a hundred and eighty degrees, my back toward the direction of the shot.
The bullet hit my abdomen.
It felt like a red-hot iron rod shoved into my gut. Then came a deeper, heavier sensation of collapse, like someone had opened all the valves in my body and drained out all the blood at once.
My legs gave out. My knees hit the asphalt. Out of my entire body, only my right arm had any strength left. I pressed Chloe and Emily beneath me, using my back to shield them from anything else that might come.
"Don't move." My voice scraped out through my teeth, so muffled I could barely hear it myself. "This spot's targeted. Don't move."
"Enzo, you're hit!" Chloe's voice exploded beneath me, pitched so high it cracked. "You're bleeding! Enzo, you're bleeding!"
"It's the shoulder wound opening up again." I lied. Because I couldn't let her know the bullet hit my stomach. If she knew, she'd panic. And then she'd be exposed in the sniper's crosshairs. "It's nothing. Don't move."
But her hand had already found my abdomen. Hot liquid was soaking through my sweater, running over her fingers. Chloe's body went rigid, then she let out a strangled sob.
"This isn't from your shoulder." Her voice shook so hard it nearly fell apart. "Enzo, this isn't from your shoulder."
Couldn't hide it anymore. Chloe's entire hand covered the wound on my abdomen. Warm liquid poured through the gaps between her fingers.
Her fingers pressed frantically against the hole, trying to plug it, but blood kept flowing out. Chloe's hand turned red. Her sleeve turned red. Even the edge of Emily's blanket in her arms was stained red.
"Stop pressing," I said, my voice so weak I could barely hear myself. "Don't get your hands dirty."
"Shut up!" Her voice cracked. "You're not allowed to die! You hear me? You're not allowed to die here!"
The gunfire stopped. I knew exactly what that meant. The shooter was repositioning, trying to find an angle that could bypass my body and target Chloe directly.
Time was running out.
