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Images loop through my mind at record speed as I eye the barrel of the gun pointed at me. The couple crossing the street, hugging and kissing. The family in the minivan, laughing and singing. The look on Sloane’s face when I told her I loved her.

I knew both my time and my dad’s had a definite expiration date. I just never thought I’d go before he did.

I wanted forever.

Instead, I got a small sliver of what could have been.

It wasn’t enough. It could never be enough.

My pulse throbs, my chest heaves. The pain slices through me like a machete, but still I grit my teeth and stare up at Gianni. “Just leave her alone. Don’t hurt her, Gianni. Walk away. Please,” I sputter.

A flash of confusion clouds his expression for a split second, almost like he didn’t expect me, a killer, to ask him, another killer, to show mercy to someone. I don’t give a shit what he does to me, but her?

I’d go straight to hell and burn down there for infinity if it meant she’d be spared. And for that split second, it looks like I may have gotten through to him.

Then the mask lifts and the evil replaces it. His lips curl into a grin. “Maybe I won’t kill her after all. Maybe I’ll just take her with me. Then I can fuck that pussy any time I want while you’re fucking rotting in some hole.” He nods. “Yeah, I like that plan better. Bye, bye Max.”

Crack!

The exploding shot reverberates between my ears and a deafening clanging sound follows. I’m fucking deaf, but I didn’t feel another shot tear through me. I look down and pull at my clothes. I can move. I can breathe. My head is still attached.

What the hell just happened?

Is this what death feels like?

Gianni staggers forward, collapsing to his knees, blood oozing from his mouth. He has an incredulous look on his face, and I kind of feel the same way right now. Where the hell did that shot even come from?

“Fuck you, Gianni,” A low voice mumbles about a foot away from me. The guy behind the door who attacked Gianni with that pipe…he’s still alive.

With a final breath, Gianni clutches his chest and pitches onto the floor, his body dropping like a cement block at the bottom of the Hudson River.

I slide my legs away just before he crashes next to them. I look down at the blood soaking my shirt and jeans. My arm lies limp at my side. Numbness creeps down to my fingertips, but my shoulder…fuck. I wish I could say it was numb. If I’d been stabbed with scalding hot daggers, it’d be a picnic compared to the searing pain incinerating my insides. I feel around on the floor for my gun with my good hand, but there’s nothing but ratty carpet beneath my fingertips.

“Don’t bother…I’ve got it…” The same voice that told Gianni to fuck himself rasps next to me.

Shaky breaths make my chest quiver. My head rolls to the side, not knowing entirely what to expect, but thinking a shot between the eyes is looming.

The door squeaks open, looking as if it had been used for target practice. My gaze falls to the guy lying on the floor. Holy fuck.

Tommy.

He’s still clutching my gun in his bloody hand. He looks up at me and nods, his breaths short and sharp. “Jesus…Christ, man. You almost…got your…head…blown off.”

A dry laugh escapes my lips as Tommy drops the gun and drops his head to the floor, as if the effort required to choke out those words was too much for him to bear. “Yeah, well, I hope you already got paid, man, since you just iced the cocksucker who hired you.” I clench my teeth, trying to straighten up.

“I tried to text you when I found Sloane,” Tommy says, his voice thick. “But they took my phone when they caught me typing. Fucking smashed it. Killed my friend Dino, too.” He shakes his head, clutching his temples.

“How bad are you hit?” I ask, wincing as I shift against the wall.

Tommy lets out a moan. “Bad enough. He got me in the leg. Christ, if I’d have been standing in front of him, I don’t know that he’d have taken me out. He can’t shoot for shit.”

“Damn straight.”

I turn my head in the direction of the pained female voice. Layla slithers out of the room, pulling herself by one forearm.

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter. “You’re fucking alive?”

She drops to the floor, her head in her hand. “For the moment.”

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