Page 113 of The Woman with the Handcuffs

Alive.

Yelling.

Pleading.

And I had to assume it was for his life.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“He won’t let me live if I don’t,” Mona said, sounding like she was crying.

“I will make sure you live. I swear it. I still love you. I know he’s not giving you a choice. Please, Mona. After everything we’ve shared.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I love you too.”

I broke through the trees to the clearing where my father was on his back on the ground, hands up, and his girlfriend stood over him with a gun.

Before I could even scream, her shaky finger slid to the trigger.

The explosion tore through the woods, tore through my heart.

I wasn’t even aware of the thought telling my finger to move.

But it did.

Right to the trigger.

And pulled.

Another explosion.

Mona screamed and jumped so hard she dropped the gun.

Whipping around, her eyes went huge, her hands going up. Her whole body was shaking violently.

“Nugget, no,” my father called, his voice tight, airy.

I looked over at him, his hand pressed to his arm, blood oozing through his fingers.

A cry escaped me, my mind racing, my heart galloping. My chest went tight. My vision started to go dark at the edges.

No.

No, it wasn’t time for this.

“Caitlin!” Gav called, sounding close. But I couldn’t breathe to call back.

“Nugget, breathe,” my dad said as I gasped for air but didn’t seem capable of drawing in a real breath.

“Cait!”

“Over here,” my father called, still a little breathless as Mona sobbed a few feet away.

“Cait…” Gav broke into the clearing, his gaze shooting around, taking in everything at once: my dad, the gunshot, Mona, the gun in my hand, and, finally, me losing my shit.

“Hey, babe, hey,” Gav said, voice careful, like he was talking to a scared animal. “You’re okay. I’m here. Let me have that gun, okay?”

He didn’t wait for me to answer; I wasn’t capable. He put a hand on top of the gun and pushed down before pulling it from my hand and tucking it into his waistband.