Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 49416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
My phone buzzes again, and I quickly read the text.
It's a link to the rental car location. I click it and my blood runs cold.
Its location is pinging outside the hotel we're in.
I pocket my phone, scanning the crowd that’s now even harder to see through since everyone is standing and clapping.
My heartrate skyrockets, slipping into that adrenaline zone I know all too well. The one that has everything slowing down as my instincts sharpen.
An odd bit of movement to my right catches my eye, and my muscles tighten.
Spencer is here.
He’s moving through the crowd, bumping into people, his eyes on Zoe as he reaches into his jacket pocket—
Fear trickles ice cold into my veins.
“Down!” I shout toward Zoe, but she can't hear me over the applause.
I start shoving through the throngs of people around me, trying to get ahead. There are too many people, so I climb onto the table next to me, jumping to the next one, and the next one, causing an outright scene as Zoe’s eyes lock on mine.
Terror shoots across her face as she scans the crowd, her eyes falling on Spencer who's almost made it to the stage. She stumbles back a few steps, and I jump to another table, then I’m on the stage.
I jump in front of Zoe just as I hear a loud crack break over the crowd, taking her down to the stage, hearing the panicked screams behind me as something sharp and hot sears my chest.
Knowing Zoe is secure, I roll to my back, retrieving my gun holstered to my ankle in a second flat.
Spencer’s eyes are wide and angry as he points his gun toward me, looking at Zoe pressed beneath me. He shifts—
I squeeze the trigger.
Two rounds.
Clean shots, no citizens around.
Spencer goes down, the gun he holds sliding a few feet away from him as he hits the stage floor.
“Owen,” Zoe’s voice is drenched in panic and fear as I slump, the gun heavy in my hand. “Owen, no,” she says, rushing into my view, dropping to her knees at my side as her hands fly to my chest.
I look down. Everything still moves in slow motion. Blood pools on my chest.
“Someone help!” Zoe screams, tears rolling down her cheeks as she presses her hands against the bullet wound.
My head is heavy, my eyes drooping slightly as I look up at her. My hand shakes as I reach up to touch her cheek. “It's okay,” I say, although the words are hard to get out. My hands are starting to tingle, and my shirt is soaked with my blood. I'm military. I've dressed enough wounds to know this one's a real fucking doozy.
“It's okay,” I say again, the sounds of the panicked crowd muffling around me as my heart stutters in my chest. “You're safe,” I say. “That's all that matters.”
I try to keep my eyes open, but they're so damn heavy.
“No, Owen!” Zoe screams. “You stay with me! You stay with me!”
My eyes fall closed. I slip backward down a long black tunnel as I desperately try to stay for her.
CHAPTER 18
Zoe
Sirens blare, and I do my best to make myself as small as possible, sitting where the EMTs put me in the ambulance. Owen is on a stretcher, unconscious as they work to get an IV into him, stuffing gauze against the hole in his chest.
I can barely control my breathing, my brain fragmenting as I try to make sense of the last five minutes.
Spencer.
The sound of the gun going off.
The return fire from Owen.
The way his body hit the ground. How soft his voice sounded when he said I was safe.
The first responders race him into the ICU, and it's all I can do to keep up, to hold myself together as I watch them wheel him back and tell me I have to stay here and wait.
I sink into a chair, my hands trembling as I reach for my phone. I fire off a quick text to my girls’ group chat, needing some sense of solidity when it feels like my world is crumbling around me. And then I pull up Caleb’s number, pressing call.
“Zoe?” He answers after the first ring. “What happened?”
“We're at Charleston Hospital,” I say through a shaky breath, swiping at the tears that won't stop rolling down my cheeks. “He shot him. Spencer shot Owen. He's in the ICU.”
I hear the sound of jingling keys and a car door slamming. “I'm on my way,” Caleb says. “Breathe, Zoe. Owen’s strong. It's going to be okay.”
I nod at the phone because I can't form the words, and he stays on the line with me even though I can't speak. He's still holding the phone to his ear when he rushes through the hospital doors, and immediately drops into the chair beside me. “It's going to be okay,” he says again. “What do you need?” He acts like he's known me forever, instead of a few weeks.