Page 177 of Trailer Trash

“Jagger!” I call, my voice unlike I’ve heard before. “Save her!”

He hesitates, no doubt wanting to help his brother first.

“He shot her! She’s innocent. Help her,” I plead.

He took the fucking oath, and sure enough, he jogs over.

Jagger drops beside her and presses two fingers to her throat.

“Weak pulse. She’s barely breathing.” He looks at the phone in my hand. “Put it on speaker. Tell them multiple gunshot wounds to the torso.”

“There’s so much blood? Make it stop,” I say.

“She needs a trauma team. Keep pressure here and don’t move her.”

Harlow releases a wet, rattling breath. Then nothing.

Jagger checks her neck again. His face changes.

“I lost her pulse.”

He locks his hands over her chest and starts compressions.

My phone screen glows. The operator is talking, but I’m not listening. Far in the distance, sirens carry.

“Good. They’ll save her,” I whisper.

Her eyes are...

Just like moments ago in the restaurant, I’m thrust back into the room with Asher. That same feeling spreads in my chest like a cancer. The same gut-wrenching moment I saw Asher’s eyes hold no life.

“No. I’ll get the car!” I stand up, digging in my pocket for keys.

“Killian! The ambulance is coming.”

I run to my car several aisles over. The tires squeal against the pavement. I turn the car sharply, hitting the curb.

When I get out, Dad is kneeling beside River. Jagger is still over Harlow, driving both hands into her chest.

Her body moves only when he makes it.

“Her eyes are as dull as Asher’s,” I mumble.

The sirens distort. The parking lot tilts beneath my feet.

“No, they’re not. Her eyes are fine, bro.”

I look over. Asher stands beside me.

Harlow steps around him. She has no bullet wounds. No blood.

“She’s free,” he says. “See.”

My gaze jumps between Harlow lifeless on the concrete and the one beside Asher.

“You’re dead?”

Harlow nods, but doesn’t look scared.