Page 162 of Buried in Blood

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I pull the trigger.

The sound explodes through the room—too loud, too fast. Damien jerks. Blood splatters. He drops to one knee, clutching his side, screaming through clenched teeth. “You fuckingbitch—”

Reese rushes forward, grabbing Damien like he’s trying to save him—like he’sstill loyal.

But his eyes meet mine again.

Run.

I don’t hesitate.

I sprint past the carnage, past the blood, past the twisted grin on Damien’s lips as he crumples against Reese’s chest.

I hit the hallway barefoot. Adrenaline turns the floor into fire beneath me. I hear him screaming after me—screaming my name like a curse, a promise, a prophecy.

Idon’t look back.

Not even when Reese yells something I can’t hear.

Not even when I hear another gun cock.

Not even when I realize I don’t know where I’m going.

All I know is that I fired the shot.

And it wasn’t enough.

45

Reese

She runs.

Bare feet. Wild hair. Blood on her hands.

Harmony disappears into the night like a ghost set free—and I don’t stop her.

Not this time.

Not when Damien is screaming and bleeding all over the floor of a cheap motel that smells like bleach and rot.

“Fuck!” he roars, clawing at his side. “She fucking shot me—you let her!”

I drop to my knees beside him, pressing my hands to the wound. It’s low—side, not stomach. Clean entry. No exit. She missed anything vital, thank God or fate or the twisted part of me that still wants him alive.

“I didn’t let her do shit,” I say through gritted teeth. “I thought you had control.”

He spits blood. “She had a gun—how did she get a gun?”

“I gave it to her,” I mutter.

His head jerks toward me.

I meet his gaze.

Hold it.

Lie.

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