Page 85 of Protected from Torment

I stare at the gun, aghast. “Ty, no. You need it. I can’t⁠—”

“You have to.” He closes my fingers around the handle. “The safety’s on. You know how to release it, right?”

I do. Only I swore I never would again.

“Yes, but⁠—”

“Stay here,” Tyler orders. Then he kisses my forehead. “Be safe, baby. If I don’t come back, wait here for Rafe. He’ll come⁠—”

Not far from us, small branches crack beneath hurried footsteps.

Tyler shoots me a desperate, pleading look. “Be safe.” Then he turns and sprints away from me, taking my heart along with him.

Tears spring to my eyes.

The gun trembles in my hands.

Fear worse than anything I’ve felt surges through me, squeezing my lungs until it’s nearly impossible to breathe.

I can feel the panic attack coming on hard and fast, but I can’t lose it here. I need to be ready to help Tyler if he needs me. So I bite the inside of my cheek until it bleeds, focusing on the pain in my mouth instead of the gripping fear.

As I cower beneath the rotted tree, time seems to speed up and slow down simultaneously.

A man calls out, “I can’t find them!”

The other calls back, “He’s a fucking cripple, how far could he go?”

Anger cuts through my fear.

How dare he call Tyler a cripple?

And on the heels of that, a more pressing question.

Where is Tyler?

Is he okay?

Seconds later, someone cries out in pain.

No. Not someone.

Tyler.

“Over there!” one of the men shouts. “To your right!”

A flurry of loud footsteps follow, making no attempt to hide their approach.

A gunshot echoes.

My heart leaps to my throat.

Every muscle in my body is urging me to get up. To find Tyler. To help him.

Nausea rises as something Tyler says comes back to me.

In the car, he just said I would be okay. Not him.

I’m just about to emerge from my hiding spot when I hear Tyler’s voice. “You win,” he calls out. “Just stop. Leave her alone. Do whatever you want to me.”