Page 46 of Serpent King's Revenge

If she’d taken Nathan and my baby…there would be hell to pay.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Diane snarled from somewhere nearby, pain in her voice. “There’s a reason I didn’t shoot you back there.”

We both stood up, and then we were facing each other down. Our weapons were gone, or at least out of our hands–one gun was off to the side.

I didn’t say anything.

I just ran for it.

We collided as we both ran for the gun, falling once again in a tangle of limbs. She was stronger than I thought she would be, or maybe it was the adrenaline pumping through her. But so was I. Gritting my teeth, I managed to free one hand and landed a punch on her jaw. She grunted, releasing her grip on me slightly. Taking advantage of the brief window, I freed my other hand and pushed her away from me with all the strength I could muster.

I extended my arm, reached for the gun, took hold of it.

Then I buried the muzzle in her gut…and this time, my bullet found its mark.

Everything happened at once; someone pushing me over, the bullet ripping through the night air, the sharp intake of breath as it found its mark. Diane crumpled, clutching her stomach. She spat out a cough of viscous red blood; I almost threw up.

The sight of her falling, pain etched across her face, should've satisfied me. Instead, a pang of guilt twisted in my gut.

I didn’t give a damn about her.

But my dad would never forgive me.

I tried to get up, only to realize that I was badly scraped up, covered in bruises. My head pounded…and I reached up and found blood on my temple. Fuck. I must have bashed my head on something when we fell.

I stood up…reeled. Diane was lying completely still in the pine needles across from me.

My knees buckled and I vomited again. Double fuck. I was concussed.

And that was the last thing I thought before I realized I couldn’t do another damn thing to help Nathan.

Chapter Twenty: Nathan

Ithought I heard her scream my name…and then, darkness.

I choked out a scream as my eyes opened, darting around at my new surroundings. One moment, I’d been crawling out of that van, Diane Hayes pointing a gun at my head, and the next…

“Where is she?” I groaned. “Where’s Abby?”

“Easy, buddy,” a guard said from beside me, trying to push me back to lie down. I was dizzy as hell, and nauseous too. “Fuck…he’s bleeding an awful lot.”

“Who the fuck is Abby?” the driver asked. “One of the guards? The agent?”

“No, that was Agent Hayes,” the guard beside me said. “And something is sketchy here, because this guy? Well, he isn’t who she said he was.”

“Excuse me?”

“Terrence Guest was scheduled to be transferred to the pen today,” he went on, then he pinched the bridge of his nose. “And this guy…?”

His hand moved along my uniform, along the shackles. I guess there was some supposed to be some kind of ID there, because his face fell. “No ID.”

“Any ideas?”

He looked me over, found where my uniform was torn across the chest…and he froze.

“Jesus,” he said.

“What?” the driver asked.

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