Page 146 of Scarlet Angel

It’s about bloody time.

CHAPTER38

SCARLET

Blue lights flash, and sirens scream.

Slowly, realization dawns. I’ve felt this before. The adrenaline rush, the fight for survival, the beating of my heart so loud it pulses in my ears.

Deep breaths.

Blinking.

A forced swallow through a tight, dry throat.

The pounding whoosh dims as the danger abates, and the present bleeds through a clear, unfiltered lens.

“Over there,” a man shouts, and I glimpse one shooter rounding the corner of a building.

Officers take off in pursuit.

A river of blood streams along the pavement from the man Nick shot right in front of me.

Did I take more lives?

“Are you okay?”

Nick stands before me, rubbing my arm. I see him touching me, but I don’t feel it as much as see it. The scene of destruction, much like when I killed Vincent, is observed through an out-of-body experience.

“Scarlet?”

With a whoosh, I snap back to the present. “You threw yourself in front of me? Are you mad?”

His grip on my arm tightens, his expression severe. “I couldn’t let him shoot you.”

“I should shoot you for doing something so stupid. What were you thinking, you stupid man?

“I was thinking that you’re the love of my life, and I’d rather die than let that bastard shoot you.”

I blink.

Anger and relief and repulsion at the bloody scene before me blend.

I focus on Nick, on his concern, on his love.

“When you say it like that, I can’t stay angry at you.”

He pulls me into his chest. I turn my head to allow for oxygen. I’m still holding a handgun and consider dropping it, but instead, I keep hold, careful to remove my finger from the trigger, and lean into Nick.

Fisher approaches. “You two okay?”

He’s shouting to be heard over the shrill and constant sirens.

There were none. Now they’re everywhere.

“We’re good,” Nick says over my head.

“Let’s get you out of the open,” Fisher says.

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