Page 315 of John + Siena: The Complete Duet

She did.

And then she didn’t.

The noise in John’s mind and emotions became impossibly louder. It became far more painful. It couldn’t be contained.

He raged on.

“They were only trying to defuse the situation, John,” someone said.

“Which is exactly what enforcers are taught to do,” someone else added.

“You don’t want them going out with guns blazing all the damn time—that’s not how we fucking work, and you know it.”

“They did their job, son,” was the next sentence flung his way. “Coraline is dead—he took the shot the second he knew he had no choice.”

Over his shoulder, John hurled with venom, “A fucking second too late!”

Silence answered him back.

His emotions were up.

Then they went way down.

Like a fucking swinging pendulum. One he couldn’t possibly control no matter how much he tried to hide his issues.

He knew it was because today had just been too much—too much stimulation, and too much happening. His meds were not meant to combat these kinds of mood swings caused by traumatic events.

He tried to force himself to be quiet so his outbursts lessened.

John went back to staring at the clock.

Three hours in surgery …

Three more hours to go.

Or, that’s what the nurse said when she came with an update.

Siena’s heart had been nicked by the bullet. It ricocheted off a rib, punctured her lung, and grazed her heart. She’d been drowning and choking in her own blood while she laid in his lap, and that killed him.

He was never going to forget that.

Nothing was going to take that image away.

“And you want me to fucking let them go without punishment?”

His snarl echoed back in a silent waiting room.

He had tried to be quiet again.

He failed.

“John?”

He blinked as he stared at the clock. Every ten seconds, on the dot, he blinked again. Like a fucking robot. He heard them talking—his family, and his men. He heard their words and their justifications.

Part of him knew they were right.

Part of him didn’t give a fuck.