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“What?” we say in unison—annoying habit whenever we’re together—but we can’t focus on that now because Zander is pointing to the floor.
“Sweet Dynamite is leaking.”
“Leaking?” I don’t get his words or the odd look in his eyes until I follow where he’s pointing to see the pool of blood right at our feet.
Coming from Gemini.
“Call Kian now,” Domino orders.
I’m already pulling out my phone and pressing the single digit that goes straight to speed dialing one of our two most trusted medical aids.
It doesn’t matter where we fucking are.
Whether we’re in Leighton or across the fucking world.
One is always available to us.
Always.
Warren is cursing as he immediately drops to the ground and lays Gemini on the floor. Her breaths are still shallow as more beads of sweat are running down her face.
Seeing how pale she is now is making me anxious, especially with the phone ringing three times.
I’m about to hang up as Warren pulls out a knife and begins to cut at the leather fabric of Gemini’s pants, but the line roars to life.
“Kian speaking.”
“How fast can you get to the warehouse?”
“Ask the proper question, Ares,” he argues in annoyance.
I hear shuffling in the background.
I know he needs a diagnosis, but I don’t know what we’re working with here.
I bite my lip and quickly watch as Warren tears away the leather that’s not cooperating with his knife—revealing a deep wound that looks like she got shot.
Hold a fucking minute.
“Who the fuck shot her?” I snap unexpectedly. There’s an unsettling, nagging rage consuming me to the point, I can see red.
This isn’t the way I should react, especially to a stranger, but this is confirmation of what’s been ringing in my head since realizing the guard was going to shoot her.
Our initiation has been compromised.
“You had this place guarded up,” Warren accuses.
“No one should have had guns on them,” Domino steps in. I’m sure he doesn’t like the accusing tone my brother is using. “We triple-checked. There are cameras everywhere. Every gun in Leighton is registered with a unique identification number. She shouldn’t have been shot here.”
Didn’t stop the guard. Fucking snake.
“Who was her driver?” I question.
“Me,” Warren grumbles as his eyes cloud over. “You guys sent an update text message changing the time. We wouldn’t make it, so she ran out of the car and through the streets to get here.”
“During RUSH hour?” Domino and I demand in surprise.
No one is stupid enough to be caught outside on the other side of town during rush hour unless you enjoy trauma and misery.
