Page 73 of The Opposite Effect

“She’smygirl, Damon. That is why she’s here. And if you hurt her, we’re going to have a problem. Is that what you want? Is that why you came back to Ravenshoe? To start trouble?”

Damon runs the back of his spare hand under his nose before using it to reinforce his brace on his gun. His hand is rattling so much, the gun is shaking like a leaf in a hot summer breeze. “I came here to get away from that life, but they followed me here. I didn’t mean to hurt her. I don’t want to hurt her.”

“Then drop the gun.” My voice hints at my wavering constraint. “Drop it before you make another mistake you can’t take back.”

It appears as if Damon didn’t hear a word I spoke.

“How did you know it was me? I was wearing a mask,” he asks with his gaze fixed on Clara.

Clara’s lips quiver as she begins to speak, “I recognized your voice when you greeted Charity.”

Fuck, Charity.I forgot she was here with Clara.

My heart rate climbs into dangerous territory, spurred on by the potent rage of fury blackening my blood. Just as I begin to ask about Charity’s whereabouts, my eyes lock in on a pair of red leather boots sprawled on the floor between Damon and Clara. They’re the same pair Charity has worn every day since she brought them two months ago.

I hold my hands out in front of my body, signaling to Damon that I mean him no harm as I slowly walk to Charity. Fury scorches my veins when I spot the welt on the top of her head. It looks like the mark a person would get when they’re struck with the butt of a gun. I crouch down in front of her to check for a pulse. My heart starts beating again when I discover a pulse—it’s faint, but it is there.

In a hazed blur, the front door of my apartment is kicked open at the same time Damon launches for Clara. He curls his arms around Clara’s chest and plasters his body to her back. While holding his gun to Clara’s right temple, he retreats deeper into my apartment. My fury hits a never-before-reached level when he uses her as a shield to protect himself from Ryan’s gun.

Damon stares into his brother’s eyes while declaring, “Drop your gun, or I’ll shoot her.” His voice is weak and pathetic like the man he is.

“If you don’t let her go, I will shoot you,” Ryan warns. “Don’t make me shoot you, Damon. Don’t put another death on my hands.”

Clara’s entire body shakes as her wide, horrifiedeyes drift between Ryan and me. New tears fill her eyes before spilling down her cheeks.

“Look at me, Princess. Keep your eyes on me,” I request, my voice scratchy as a range of emotions surge through me. “You’re okay. No one will hurt you.”

I take a step closer to her as Ryan and Damon continue with their negotiations. I don’t hear a word they’re saying, I’m too fixated on calming Clara solely by using my eyes.

My ploy seems to be working as the shivers racking her body simmer to a dull vibration. She keeps her tear-filled eyes planted on me while Damon’s remain glued on Ryan.

Using his distraction to my advantage, I charge for Damon. A gun being fired momentarily startles me, but it doesn’t stop my pursuit. Ignoring the thick stench of fear plaguing the air surrounding me, I yank Clara out of Damon’s grasp with one hand while striking his unprotected face with my other.

A bone cracking is barely audible over the deep “oomph” expelled from Clara’s mouth when she lands on her backside with a sickening thud. Damon’s eyes roll to the back of his head before he plummets to the concrete, his body crashing lifelessly to the floor, knocked out by one punch.

Bullets from the cylinder of his gun fall to my feet when I disarm it before sliding it into the back of my jeans. A massive surge of adrenaline pumps through my veins as I stoop down onto my knees to gather Clara into my arms. My pulse pounds into my ears as my eyes assess every inch of her. She’s alarmed and highly distressed but uninjured.Thank fuck.

My gratefulness doesn’t last long when Clara gasps, “Ryan!”

When I swing my eyes to the entryway of my apartment, a heaviness slams into my chest when I see a pool of blood seeping into Ryan’s crisp white business shirt. His eyes lock with mine—they’re lifeless and tormented. His gasps are wheezy anduncontrollable as he battles to secure a full breath. He mumbles the quickest apology, spraying his lips with droplets of vibrant red blood before he crumbles to the ground.

I scramble across the floor, ripping my shirt off in the process. Dropping to my knees, I wrap my shirt around my fist and apply pressure to the bullet wound in Ryan’s stomach. “Stay with me, Ryan,” I beg into his desolate eyes. He stares straight ahead, not blinking, not moving, not making a fucking sound. “Don’t you fucking quit, Ryan. Don’t you give up.”

After using my cell phone I left on the floor to call for an ambulance, Clara falls to her knees next to Ryan. “What can I do?” she asks, her voice breaking into a sob.

“Hold this.”

I release my hands from applying pressure to Ryan’s wound and replace them with Clara’s. The rattle of her hands is felt all the way up her arms, but she maintains enough pressure to slow the gushes of blood pouring from Ryan’s stomach.

Fear grips my heart when I move my hand to Ryan’s neck to check for a pulse and fail to find one. Acting purely on instinct, I begin the CPR resuscitation technique Ryder made all the Inked employees train in last year. I’ve never been more grateful for Ryder’s analness for protocol as I am right now.

I continue to pump Ryan’s chest when a brunette female wearing a sleek pantsuit enters my apartment. She has a government-issued gun drawn in front of her chest, and her dark brown eyes are scanning the room. When she discovers Damon sprawled unconscious on the floor, she balks and takes a step backward. “Ryan?”

“That is his brother, Damon.” My words come out garbled as a range of emotions smack into me. “He shot Ryan. He shot his own fucking brother.”

The brunette’s eyes snap down to mine. She takes a fewseconds to absorb the scene before she calls in a command over the police radio strapped to her shoulder. “We have a 10-71 at 1314 Coulson Avenue. Officer down. I repeat, officer down.”

She moves over to check on Charity, who is slowly coming to while I continue pumping Ryan’s chest. My heart is smashing my ribs, and tears are swamping my eyes, but I don’t stop. I can’t.

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