Lynn still had one bloody hand pressed to her shoulder, but now her face looked gray and shocked.
Maren looked at Colin. Then she crawled out from behind cover.
“Maren, no.”
“She’s bleeding.”
“I said stay?—”
“She dies, Mira doesn’t get justice.”
That stopped him only for a second. Then he moved with her, keeping himself between Maren and Dekker’s body as she reached Lynn Carr.
Maren dropped to her knees beside Lynn. “Move your hand.”
Lynn’s eyes rolled toward her. “It’s bad.”
“I know. Move your hand.”
To Colin’s surprise, Lynn obeyed.
The wound was high in the shoulder, too close to things Colin did not want nicked. Blood welled fast and dark between Maren’s fingers when she pressed both hands over it.
Lynn screamed.
“Sorry,” Maren said, not sounding sorry at all. “Don’t die.”
Lynn made a strangled sound. “I’ll do my best.”
“Do better than your best. You owe my sister that.”
Lynn flinched.
Good.
Colin swept his gaze back to Dekker’s body. The man was down near the column, one arm bent beneath him, weapon a few feet from his hand. He was still, but Colin didn’t trust dead until he’d verified it himself.
“Hailstorm,” Malcolm said in his ear. “I’m on four. Report.”
“Dekker down. Carr hit. Lilac uninjured. Need medical and extraction.”
“Copy.”
“Do not approach from the elevator column. Come wide.”
“Already doing it.”
Colin moved two steps away from Maren, just enough to keep his body between her and Dekker while he kept his weapon trained on the man who had murdered Mira Walsh, murderedRay Castillo, torn apart a little girl’s bedroom, and tried to use Maren’s heart against them.
Dekker didn’t move.
Colin kicked the weapon farther away, then checked him.
No pulse.
Done. Fuckingdone.
“Colin,” she said.
