Page 74 of Sin Bin Bully

As if on cue, more gunshots ring out. Kim flinches, but I pull her closer, shielding her with my body despite the agony it causes.

"Stay down," I growl, scanning the area.

Through the chaos, I spot my security team advancing on Matthew's position. The tables have turned, and now it's Matthew who's cornered.

"Give it up, Harley!" I shout, my voice carrying across the driveway. "You're done!"

Matthew's response is a string of curses, followed by more gunfire. But it's clear he's panicking now, his shots going wild.

"Sam, you're bleeding too much," Kim whispers, her hands pressing against my wound.

I look down at her, struck by the determination in her eyes. Even now, she's fierce, beautiful. "I'm fine. Just a scratch, remember?"

She shakes her head, lips pursed. "Don't lie to me, Sam. Not now."

Before I can respond, a commotion draws our attention. My security team has Matthew surrounded, their weapons trained on him.

"Drop the gun, Harley!" one of my men orders.

For a moment, it seems like Matthew might try something stupid. But then his shoulders slump, and the gun clatters to the ground.

"On your knees!" another guard barks.

Matthew complies, his face a mask of defeat and fury. As my team moves in to restrain him, our eyes lock across the driveway.

"This isn't over, Warwick," he spits.

I can't help but laugh, even though it sends fresh waves of pain through my shoulder. "Oh, I think it is, Matthew. Enjoy prison."

As if on cue, the wail of sirens cuts through the night, growing louder as they approach. I try to push up off the ground, but Kim presses me back as she pushes the fabric of her dress against my shoulder, stemming the flow of blood. The pain is a constant, throbbing presence, but I force myself to focus on her face.

"What were you thinking coming out here?" I manage, my voice rough.

Kim's eyes are wide, filled with worry. "I had to make sure you were okay." Then, under her breath, she adds, "Good thing I came, too."

I can't help but chuckle, wincing as the movement sends a fresh wave of pain through me. I don't point out that I took the bullet for her. I just try to sit up again, and she glares at me. "Just a flesh wound. I've had worse in hockey."

She shakes her head, a mix of exasperation and concern on her face. "This isn't the time for jokes."

The screech of tires announces the arrival of the first responders. Suddenly, we're surrounded by a flurry of activity. Paramedics swarm around us, their voices a cacophony of medical jargon.

"Sir, can you hear me?" One of them asks, shining a light in my eyes.

I bat it away, annoyed. "I'm fine. It's just my shoulder."

They ignore my protests, efficiently cutting away my shirt to assess the wound. I hiss as they prod at it, the pain sharp and immediate.

"Looks like it might've hit something," one of them mutters. "We need to get him to the hospital."

As they prepare to move me onto a stretcher, I grab Kim's hand. "You're coming with me, right?"

She nods, her grip tightening on mine. "Of course. I'm not leaving you."

The ride to the hospital is a blur of motion and noise. The ambulance sways and jerks, each movement sending fresh spikes of pain through my shoulder. Kim sits beside me, her hand still in mine, her presence a calming anchor in the chaos.

"You didn't have to take a bullet for me, you know," she says softly.

I turn my head to look at her, managing a smirk despite the pain. "'Course I did. You're mine to protect, little dancer."

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