She laughed, sharp as a snapped femur. “You don’t know what I want.”
She flicked her eyes to me, then to Rawley, then back to Liam. “You have one chance,” she said. “Come with me or I’ll make sure neither of you gets anything you want. Ever.”
Liam looked at me, at the men on the ground, at the gun in her hand, then at me again. His lips parted, like he was about to say something, and I saw the apology in his eyes before he made a move.
He stepped forward. “I’ll go,” he said, loud enough for the wind to carry it.
She smiled, and the safety went off with a click.
I said, “Don’t. He’s not—”
But she was already moving, grabbing his arm, jamming the gun into the side of his neck, using him as a shield between herself and the rest of us.
I saw the blood, slow at first, then faster.
Liam flinched, but didn’t cry out. He looked at me over her shoulder, eyes wide and clear.
I moved forward, but she backed up, gun still pressed to his neck.
“You think you can take him from me?” she screamed. “You think you’re better than me?”
I kept my hands up, kept my body between her and the rest. “You don’t want to do this,” I said, trying to buy time, not even knowing what for.
Burke was circling left, Macon right, but neither one could get a shot without risking Liam.
Rawley was on the radio, barking something at the sheriff, but all I could hear was the wind and the ragged, fast breathing coming from Liam.
Then, out of nowhere, from the ditch at the side of the road, a figure in a parka and ski mask stood up. He was holding a flare gun, the kind you use for mountain rescues, and he fired it straight into the air.
The sky lit red.
Eleanor’s attention flickered, just for a second, and in that second, I lunged. I caught her wrist, twisted, and the gun went flying. It landed in the snow and disappeared.
She screamed, kicked at my shins, but I held on, and Liam twisted free, backing away, hands to his throat.
Burke tackled her from the side, slammed her into the hood of the SUV, and she went down, teeth bared, eyes wild.
I went to Liam, hands on his face, looking for the blood, for the wound, for anything that meant I’d lost him.
He was shaking, but he smiled at me, weak but alive.
I said, “You okay?”
He nodded, then collapsed against me, arms around my waist, face buried in my chest. I held him there, hands in his hair, breath coming ragged and loud.
Burke and Macon had Eleanor on the ground, zip-tied and screaming. Rawley was waving the sheriff’s SUV down the road.
I held Liam and didn’t let go.
The man with the flare gun walked up the road, mask pulled down. It was Jackson Reyes, grinning like a lunatic, hands up in mock surrender.
“What? You had a party and didn’t invite me?” Jackson pressed a hand to his chest in a dramatic gesture. “I’m hurt.”
Macon looked at him, deadpan. “You’re deranged.”
“That’s why you should invite me to the party.” Jackson wagged his eyebrows, grinning. “I make it fun.”
The sheriff pulled up, lights flashing, siren cutting through the cold like a razor. He got out, saw the scene, and just shook his head.
