Page 72 of Force At Third

Live, Gwendolyn York, live.

Mom, Leland, Marks, Annie, Whit.

I’m up, gun pointed at me. I turn it.

Chloe, CeCe, Cora.

Fight, Gwendolyn York, fight.

“Piece of shit!” I scream, but it barely comes out.

It’s okay because my swing connects, rattling him.

But something black and hard strikes the side of my head.

I fall back.

Harder, Gwendolyn York, harder!

Coming out of the water, gun to my head, he sneers, “You’re not my daughter.”

“You’ll see them in court, motherfucker.” I lunge at him.

Shot fired.

Pain.

Black.

* * *

Drowning, sirens, pressure …

Coughing, breathing, choking.

Giant tattooed man, rolling me to my side.

“She’s alive. She needs the boo-boo bus to hurry the fuck up, but she’s alive. Aren’t you, Gwen?”

I see Marks … Rome with his knee in William’s back. They’ve got him.

I try to talk. It hurts.

I whisper, “Get him out of here.”

“I’m not leaving you.” Marks squats down beside me. “Because I’m going to chew your ass out for not following the fucking plan, Gwen. You?—”

He’s not focusing. This isn’t going to work.

“Take him before the cops get here.”

“Wait—what?” someone—brother of the giant tattooed man—asks.

“Fuck!” Marks relents as he storms over to Rome, presses a knee on William’s back, jacks his arms behind him, and cuffs him. “Go with Gwen. Do not leave her side.”

“Let me finish him,” Rome hisses as sirens near.

“Go with Gwen.” Marks pushes Rome away and pulls William up, dragging him away.

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