Page 147 of Angelic Vengeance

Gunshots rippled through the air.

I lifted my head just in time to see them pierce through Zach’s chest. Bullet after bullet drilled through skin and muscle. I watched the life drain out of him when he fell back with the force of the shots.

“Zach!” My cry shattered through the air.

With the cement boulder protecting me, I pulled him behind the barrier too. I struggled to drag his heavy body, but there was no other option.

There were four holes in his chest; too close to a vital organ breaking inside my own ribcage.

That should’ve been me.

But he pushed me out of the way.

‘Do you have any idea how scared I was when I couldn’t find you in the water?All I knew was,I wasn’t going back up without you. I jumped after you. Risked my own life. FOR YOU.’

This wasn’t the first time he’d chosen my life over his own.

He couldn’t die for me.

Not like this. Not now.Not ever.

My eyes lowered to the bulletproof vest wrapped around me.Hisbulletproof vest.

Fresh blood leaked out of the wounds, soaking his white T-shirt red.

If I wouldn’t have forgotten my vest… He’d be wearing his right now. And there’d be no blood.

“Zach.Open your eyes.” I spoke sternly, holding his face in my hands. It wasn’t a suggestion – it was a command.He had to.“Open your eyes,” I repeated, though this time it sounded more like a plead.

I checked the pulse in his neck.

Bu-bum.

Bu-bum.

Bu-bum.

But his eyes were closed. And I knew, even I wouldn’t be able to force them open without urgent medical care.

My vision blurred, making me squeeze my eyes shut. I felt a tear leak out, only to fall on his cold cheek.

A rage so venomous exploded in my chest…

I blacked out.

I’d only ever experienced that type of darkness once before in my life: five years ago in Cuba. The way this all started. But back then I fought to save my own life. This time, I fought to save someone else’s.

When I came back to myself, my chest was heaving with adrenaline and I was standing in a pool of blood.

For a second, I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection of a bullseye mirror in the ceiling corner. Scarlet was splattered across my face and I looked nothing less than insane.

A whimper of pain made me look to the side, over the dead bodies of the dirty agents and masked soldiers.

My mother was on the floor, clutching her stomach – blood leaking out of two gunshots. Her arm was reaching desperately –pathetically– for a gun.

She didn’t hear me approach her – not until my shoe crunched the bones in her hand. Her scream vibrated in my own bones, feeding relief into my veins.

Ruiz coughed out blood as I reached for the gun.

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