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I saw Colt in the middle of the park, helping a woman and her child toward the safety of the public restrooms, which left him out in the open.
The Iron Horsemen didn’t waste any time as they fired off another round of shots, and I watched as Colt fell to his knees. His face was a picture of shock as his hand went to his side, covering a bloody stain on his shirt.
I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out.
Colt lifted his pistol and fired off a few shots toward the Iron Horsemen, but they went wide and he missed.
He dropped his weapon to his side, a look of angry resignation passing over his face as if he could hardly believe he was going out that way.
Turning his head, his eyes found mine. There was nothing but remorse shining out from them, silently apologizing for the life we wouldn’t get to share.
Colt mouthed something to me and even though it was too far away to lip-read, I knew what he was saying.
I love you.
“Fuck that, Colt,” I whispered, tears spilling from my eyes.
Hope drained from his face, mine going with his. I refused to look away, I refused to let him think he was dying alone, that I wasn’t dying with him. Because I was. Every last bit of me that had survived the death of my mother and grandmother, would die now, too. Colt had helped me live. He’d helped me love.
More gunshots from across the park pulled his attention and a slow smile crept across his face as though he had embraced the finality of what was to come.
“Get down, you bloody fool!” Flynn Campbell yelled from behind a large oak tree.
Colt heard him and flopped to the grass, letting out a moan, his eyes closing.
Flynn yelled in a foreign tongue, which sounded very much like a war cry. Men swarmed from every avenue, armed, ready, and firing at the Iron Horsemen.
My heart was torn in two. The love of my life was bleeding out on the lawn, but there were three children who needed my protection.
My savior came in the form of Darcy who had somehow managed to avoid the fray and snuck up against the hot dog truck. No danger would stand between a mother and her babies. She sent me an overwhelming look of gratitude for protecting her children, but then she gestured with her chin at Colt.
“I know,” I whispered. “I have to go to him. It might already be too—”
“Go,” she urged.
I attempted to hand her my pistol but she shook her head. “I’ve got one.”
All rational thought for my own safety left my mind, and before I stopped to think if it was a good idea or not, I was up and running toward Colt. I didn’t get far because someone tackled me from behind and I went down hard, teeth rattling in my head.
“Let me up!” I wheezed, attempting to get out from underneath a solid body of muscle.
“I’m not gonna let you die,” Knight murmured in my ear.
“I’m not gonna die,” I snapped.
Gunshots rang out, cutting through the screams. I managed to lift my head, enough so that I could watch more people dodge bullets and run for cover.
“Let me up,” I commanded again.
Knight’s hand went to my head and pressed it into the grass. “No.”
“Colt—I have to go to him.”
He sighed. “All right, but you crawl. You stay low to the ground. The brothers need my help. You promise me you’ll stay low!”
“I promise.”
Knight reluctantly released me and then went to join the fight. I hadn’t considered him my father, but he’d thrown himself over me, shielding me from the spray of bullets. It was true paternal instinct.
