Page 125 of Shadow Of Sin

“Get behind me.”

“What are you⁠—?”

“Behind me. Now.”

The man shifts his aim to my chest. “Who the fuck are you? Prince Charming?”

“Not quite,” I say. “More like the Dark Knight who just froze every dollar your boss has to his name. Hoxha’s locations are being raided as we speak. Dmitri’s network is in shambles and so are all the assholes who work for him. Every piece of evidence the FBI needs to put you away is sitting in their inbox right now. So you can walk out the door now, or be here when the police show up.”

The man by the front door takes a step back. He wants to run. His legs are twitching.

But the man with the gun doesn’t move. He’s doing the math on what he can still take from a burning building.

What can make him whole.

He lunges for Eva.

I grab his wrist. We fall sideways together. The gun is between us and I’m twisting his arm, and his finger is on the trigger.

I know what’s about to happen in the half second before it does.

The gun fires.

The bullet rips through my left shoulder and my whole body lights up with a pain so savage, it nearly drops me. My vision whites out for a second, and every nerve still working screams at me to let go of his wrist.

I don’t let go.

Instead, I manage to gather enough adrenaline to hit him with my right hand. He drops. The gun clatters across the tile floor. My left arm goes dead. Blood soaks through my shirt, warm and flowing fast.

The second man crashes through the front door. Lochlan’s team comes charging through seconds later and puts the gunman on the ground.

I crumple to the floor next to the bar because standing is no longer something my legs are capable of doing.

Eva drops to the ground in front of me. Her hands are on my chest, pressing against the wound. Her blurred face is a wreck of tears and fury.

“You’re shot,” she says, her voice muffled like I’m hearing it from underwater. “You’re fucking shot.”

“Yeah,” I mumble. “Left shoulder. Not critical.”

“How do you know it’s not critical?” she says in a teary voice.

“Because I’m still talking.”

“You’re always talking. That doesn’t prove a damn thing.” Her hands tremble against my chest. I look down at them and the streaks of red that stain her fingers, her shirt, and the floor.

“Why did you come?” she asks, her voice cracking.

“Because you were here.” God, my brain is fuzzy. And my head feels like a cement block.

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one I have. You were here. So I came.” My head lolls. I just want to lie down somewhere and sleep…

Sal stands behind Eva. His face is pale, and his eyes are wide, and he’s looking at the blood on the floor, then at Eva, then at me.

“What the fuck is going on?” His voice quakes, the vein in his forehead throbbing.

Eva looks at me. I look at her. And I can see everything on her face. The anger that’s still etched into her expression. The fear and exhaustion in her eyes. I caused it. I caused all of it.