Page 94 of Never Fall for an Angel

He doesn’t understand. They’re coming back, and when they do, it won’t be me they’ll hurt.

I almost laugh. Why does it always have to be death?

Chaos swallows us both the moment the wind batters against my side, and I stumble, my sneaker slipping on the damp metal. Christian lunges forward, catching me around the waist, and we both topple to the ground below the ledge, a grunt forcing its way out of him and my breath being crushed from my lungs when he catches me on the concrete of the rooftop.

No, I have to do this.

I struggle in his arms, fighting with everything I have, but he’s so much bigger than me. So strong, where I’m weak after weeks of toeing the line between life and death. I thrash against him, and he struggles to gain control, pinning me against his chest.

“Let me go!”

“Goddamnit, stop it!”

It’s when a deafening pop sounds through the air that both of us freeze.

“What the—”

I look down to where a dark spot is appearing in the front of his gray T-shirt, my entire body filling with ice.

No.

No, no, no, no.

“You shot me?”

I shake my head, the words getting stuck in my throat as the pain erupts in my chest. I look down at the pistol in my hand.

Did I shoot him?

Horror washes over me, my eyes filling with tears.

How did I do that? How could I do that? I shot him. I shot Christian.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, the gun falling to the rooftop in a pool of his blood leaking from the wound. My head spins, my stomach filled with dread.

How could I shoot him?

“I’m so sorry.”

“Mila—”

“Shh . . .” I breathe, my hands roaming over him as a shiver wracks through him.

How could I shoot him?

How did I do that?

Ripping the jacket off my shoulders, I grab his hand. They’ll be coming soon, and I can’t let them find me. He won’t let me go, and my being here only brings more pain.

I place the jacket over his wound and force his hand to hold it there; the pain, unlike anything I’ve ever felt when a tremor moves through him. A sob wracks through me, my tears mixing with the light rain falling from above.

His phone hasn’t stopped ringing since he followed me up here and finally, I reach over and pull it out of his pocket, my brother’s name lighting up the screen. I answer it, placing it to my ear.

“He’s on the roof.”

Christian’s face is pale. His skin slick with perspiration.

Panic swells in my chest with the knowledge that this may be the last time I ever see him.

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