Page 278 of Chameleon Killer

Simon was still standing there. I looked down at Elliot. I had spent months believing he was trying to keep me alive.

Maybe once he had been. When that changed—I had no idea. In his head, I didn’t think it had and that was the worst part.

I lowered my hand. “Flint?” His name came out a croak, the tears I’d been swallowing burned.

“Alive.” Simon answered me immediately.

I closed my eyes. My whole body sagged. “How do you know?”

“I watched the paramedics take him out.”

Paramedics were good. “How bad?”

“Gunshot wound high in the shoulder. Head injury. He was unconscious when they transported him.”

I turned my head to look at him. “You watched?”

“Yes.”

“And then came here.”

“Yes.”

“For me.”

He didn't answer.

I laughed weakly. “Incomplete.”

Something almost like a smile touched his mouth. “Yes.”

I looked at the gun in his hand. Then at Brewster.

“Did he fire first?” Why did I ask? Because the truth still mattered.

“Yes.”

“At you?”

“Yes.”

“Did you have another option?”

Simon considered the question, actually considered it. “I don't know.”

He glanced down at the weapon in his hand, then lowered to place it on the ground. Then he stepped back from it.

I looked at it. Then at him. “What are you doing?”

“Giving you a choice.”

“Don't.” My heart kicked.

“You were always going to have one.”

I closed my eyes. “Don't make this about me.”

“It already is.” He sounded almost regretful, yet resolute.