Page 118 of Jagger's Remorse
Three ribs. His left eye swells shut. Blood everywhere, looking worse than it is thanks to Doc's strategic cuts.
Finally, I pull my gun.
"Any last words?"
"Tell... tell my mom..." He's crying now, snot and blood mixing. "Tell her I'm sorry."
I aim for his chest, just left of his heart.
The angle's perfect—camera will catch the impact but not the precision.
"Goodbye, Blade."
I fire.
He jerks, screams, goes still.
Blood pools beneath him, spreading fast.
His breathing goes shallow, then stops.
I keep recording for another thirty seconds, then shut it off.
"Now," I say.
Doc rushes in, already working.
The bullet went exactly where I aimed—through and through, missing everything vital by millimeters.
"He's in shock," Doc reports. "But he'll live."
"Good." I look at Raven. "Can you?—?"
"Already arranged. Safe house in Oregon. He'll disappear clean until we deal with your uncle."
"Good, and thank you."
"Don't thank me yet." She helps Doc load Blade onto a gurney. "This only works if Eduardo buys it."
"He'll buy it." I hold up the camera. "I've gotten very good at selling him what he wants to see."
They wheel Blade out to a van.
He's unconscious but breathing.
He'll wake up far from here, with enough money to take care of his mom and a new identity to keep him safe until things are dealt with in Redwood.
"That was brutal," Jagger says quietly.
"That was something I needed to do."
"You're bleeding." He touches my shoulder where the wound reopened.
"Worth it." I lean against him, suddenly exhausted. "One more person who doesn't die for Eduardo's games."
"How many more times can we do this? Fake deaths, hidden rebels. Eventually he'll figure it out."
"Maybe. Or maybe by then, it won't matter."
