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.The bottom pane of glass shatters, leaving nothing between me and the ground far below.Now only two chains are still attached and the cage begins to pitch to the side, uneven.The glass is smooth, there are no handholds, and I flop and tumble along the sloping surface as it tilts toward the ground.I’m sliding down.“Harper!” Dominic shouts.Screaming, I grab at anything—but there’s nothing.Before I can get a hold of the cage’s edge Colt fires again, severing a third chain.The entire cage is dangling from one chain, now, one corner of the cube anchored to the ceiling and the rest of the box spilling down.I wedge my legs and arms as wide as I can, trying to use my limbs as a plug to stop myself from tumbling out altogether.But my muscles are shaking with the effort.I can’t hold it.I’m going to fall.“No!” I scream! “Please!”My fingers are digging desperately into the thin seam of metal around the upper rim of the glass, my bare feet cutting in to the bottom edge, but I’m slipping.I hear more gunshots, but I can’t tell anymore who shoots at whom.There’s a splintering sound, like crystal breaking.“Harper!”Gravity suspends.Time stops.“Dominic!” I scream.“Help me!”I’m watching myself fall from far away, out of my body—like someone outside who has shaken a snow-globe: Harper is floating down, sparkling shards of shattered glass cascading around her like falling icicles.She looks so small, so thoroughly fucked.Someone is shouting.Someone is shooting a gun.But those sounds are distant, muffled by the fall and the cold and the shock.“Harper!”But then I hit something, or something catches me, and the quiet out-of-body peace implodes.All around me there’s crashing and glittering and darkness.I’m covered with something heavy, unable to see.I hear the tinkling of breaking glass splintering into the concrete around me.I feel the air knocked out of my chest cavity, like belly flopping into a pool.But while my fall is broken, my body is not.The dust settles, and I find myself curled in a ball, wrapped in Dominic’s arms.He’s caught me and thrown his body around me like a shield.There are bits of glass sparkling in his hair, all over his leather jacket.“Dominic,” I gasp.“Harper you alright?”We’re both breathless, somewhat stunned by the impact and the glass.And our reunion is cut short by more gunfire.“Find cover!” Dominic pushes me away like a hot potato and I’m rolling until I thump into something, an overturned table.I scramble behind it, only realizing once I’m safely hidden that Dominic hasn’t followed me.“Dominic?”Peeking out, I see him crawling through the glass, firing up at the balcony.He tries to stand but stumbles to the ground, groaning.I see him clutching his thigh.“Dominic!”I jump up to run to him but he waves me away.“Harper, run! Get out of here!”“She’s not going anywhere,” Colt growls.There’s more gunfire, this time in my direction.“Harper, get down!” Dominic yells.I scream and duck, throwing my arms over my head.When the blasts fall silent I hear running footsteps and look up, breathless.For a second I can’t see either of the men in the dark.“Guess you’re empty, Colt.”“Guessed wrong, Thorne.”There’s one final shot, then a groan.Then silence.“Dominic?”The footsteps resume, but it’s not Dominic’s footsteps that I hear.These sound like dress shoes.Colt has come out of nowhere, standing over Dominic in triumph.“No!” I shout, realizing that Dominic’s been shot.That Colt is beating him lifeless.My legs have gone wobbly, but I force myself to stand and stumble toward the sounds of punches and grunts.Dominic is down, and Colt is kicking him in the ribs, face, belly.“No!”I don’t even recognize my own voice, its primal war cry.I don’t even realize what I am doing until a huge shard of the shattered cage glass is in my hands, a lethal weapon.It bites into my skin but I barely feel it until I’ve jumped onto Colt’s back and I’m stabbing the glass down like a guillotine into his neck, pushing until I can’t push anymore, screaming for all I’m worth.The glass is cutting me, but killing Colt.All I can think is: stop him.There’s a horrible gargling sound.Colt’s body shudders and slackens under me until he falls to his knees.I tumble on top, my fingers still clutching the glass.Colt goes still, and I can feel the heat of his blood soaking through both of our shirts.He’s dead.Colt is dead.I’ve killed a man.I’m sobbing with effort and shock and pain, but the realization of what I’ve done propels me up and off the pile of bodies.Colt is lying facedown covering Dominic, who hasn’t moved.“Dominic?” I whimper.“Dominic, can you hear me?”Using all my strength, I roll Colt off of Dominic and frantically feel for breath, for a pulse.“Please, please, Dominic, please still be beating.”There it is, his pulse - faint, but present.“Thank god,” I murmur.But he’s unconscious.This isn’t good.In the dark, it’s impossible to see where he’s been shot.“Flashlight,” I remember.He had a flashlight.I grope blindly along the dark ground, shards of glass cutting my already bleeding hands.It takes what feels like a lifetime, but I finally find the flashlight and switch it on, pointing it at Dominic.He’s covered in blood and I almost vomit before reminding myself that it might not be his; Colt bled out all over him.Scrambling closer, I rub Dominic’s skin gently, trying to find a wound.“Please, baby,” I beg.His head is ok, but there’s bad swelling on one side from being hit.His neck is fine too.I can’t find a bullet hole in his chest, but it feels like a rib or two are broken.Finally I find a wound in his shoulder and one in his thigh, close to the hip.There’s so much blood.“Jesus, please, no,” I pray, using my hands to try to plug the wound.I can feel his blood oozing between my fingers.“No, please god, no.”Like an answer to prayer, I hear the sound of salvation: motorcycle engines just outside the Depraved Club warehouse, roaring closer every second.It must be the Sons.“Help!” I scream.I can hear men’s voices, and I recognize Dirty and Charlie Foxtrot’s shapes in the doorway.Of course Dominic would have called the club to meet him here.Of course they would be coming, just in time.“Over here!” I shout, desperately.“Dominic’s shot, bad! Hurry!”Chapter FifteenHarperThe clock on the wall is torturing me.I’m convinced the second-hand is telling hours or days, not seconds.Time stopped when Dominic went in to surgery.Peering through the blinds, I see that darkness has fallen outside.It’s at least midnight.In spite of the stress and the waiting my stomach growls to remind me that I’ve had nothing to eat all day.As if I could possibly eat.I’ve given up fidgeting and pacing.Now, I’m draped over a waiting room chair like a limp rag, helpless to speed up the grim march of time.Literally all my fingernails are chewed off and I can’t feel my face from crying [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]