Page 406 of Good Boys Don’t Bite

“Because of him.”

“Yes.”

There. No shame. Nathan’s expression twisted. Saint went quiet. Elliot stepped closer to the open doorway. Bell didn’t stop him this time.

“You never mattered more than Ronan.”

Nathan’s face hardened. Saint said nothing. Good. Elliot’s pulse steadied. This was working. Not because Saint was losing control. Because Elliot was. Different. He wasn’t reacting. He was choosing each word. Ronan would like that. Fuck. Thinking his name hurt.

“Where is he?”

Saint finally answered.

“Downstairs.”

Elliot’s heartbeat kicked.

“Alive?”

“Yes.”

“Prove it.”

A pause. Then the speaker changed. Static. Movement. And Ronan’s voice.

“Elliot?”

Every part of him stopped.

“Ronan.”

“I’m fine.”

He sounded breathless. Angry. Alive. Relief hit so hard Elliot grabbed the table edge. Ronan continued.

“Do not fucking come down here.”

Elliot almost laughed. Of course.

“Are you hurt?”

“Not really.”

“That is not an answer.”

“You sound like me.”

“Elliot.”

“What?”

“Stay there.”

Elliot looked toward Nathan. Nathan watched with something ugly in his face. Saint’s voice returned.

“Sweet.”

Ronan shouted through whatever microphone Saint had near him. “Fuck you.” Elliot smiled. There he was. Saint sighed. “Neither of you appreciates theater.” Ronan answered: “I appreciate theater. This just sucks.” Bell actually laughed. Small. Then caught himself. Saint went silent. Elliot looked toward Nathan. “Why is Ronan downstairs?” Nathan said nothing. Saint answered. “Because he came looking for you.” Elliot froze. Ronan had been leaving? No. Saint continued. “He heard the first shot.” Elliot’s stomach turned. “And?” “He did exactly what you would have done.” No. Ronan had promised. Not to become him. “What did he do?” Silence. Ronan spoke first. “I tackled a guy.” Elliot closed his eyes. Fuck. “Who?” “One of Nathan’s friends.” Nathan laughed. “Friend is generous.” Ronan continued. “He had a gun.” Elliot’s blood went cold. “Did he shoot you?” “No.” “Ronan.” “No.” “Where are you hurt?” “My shoulder.” “What happened?” “Wall.” Elliot breathed. Fine. Bruise. Not bullet. Good. Then Saint said: “He chose violence.” Elliot’s jaw tightened. Ronan replied: “I chose not getting shot.” Saint ignored him. “See, Elliot?” “No.”