Page 134 of Freeing Denver
The doctor has stopped.
Why has he stopped?
“Time of death, ten-oh-seven?—”
I keep blinking. He pulls off his gloves, the latex snap loud as he looks at me, expression mournful. He’s apologizing. He’s so sorry, he says. Nothing to be done, he says.
Someone screams and I lift my head as Ranger walks into the ER, his gun still in his hand. He’s staring at Denver. He’s covered in blood.
Her blood.
“Colt—” Alistair tries to fight me off, but my hand is already in his jacket, unholstering his gun.
The world slows, people scream, but Ranger never takes his eyes off Denver.
Not when I fire three shots into his chest.
Not when I put a bullet in his head.
He slumps to the ground and the room is quiet, people hiding behind beds and desks, some crying.
I wipe my eyes and look back at the doctor as he cowers by Denver.
“Try again,” I say, but he doesn’t move. I point the gun at him. “Try again!”
He gets to his feet. “Uh—push two of epi?—”
“Colt?” A familiar voice. Sebastian. “What’s going on?” But I don’t need to answer, because he sees her. He shakes his head and strides over, shoving the other doctor aside. He says her name. He’s shouting instructions.
Charge.
Clear.
A solid, flat line.
Charge.
I said charge!
Clear.
“Come on, Denver,” Sebastian says. “We just found you. We just—” He brings the flat of his fist against her chest, a solid thump. “Denver—” Again. And again.
Wake up, Denver.
Wake up.
Chapter 41
Denver
The stone balcony wall is cool under my grip, and I look out at the city I grew up in. Sparkling lights against an inky blue sky, the smell of familiar cologne all around me as I breathe in.
“Took your time.”
I look over my shoulder at the man in a suit, at the smile I haven’t seen in what feels like forever. His dark hair is brushed back, beard neatly trimmed, brown eyes sparkling as he approaches me. There’s no blood on his shirt, no bullets in his back, and he tucks his hands into his pockets.
I face him. “Have you been waiting?”
