Page 234 of On a Fault Line

I twist and try to dislodge him from my body.

His mouth licks at my ear. “But we can remedy that now. It’s not fun going through life with unfinished business. Yeah?”

“Get off me!”

“I bet whatever family that survives your loss will have a memorial for you here in the courtyard where they pay remembrance to your name. Won’t that be so sweet? What kind of flowers should they plant?”

I thrash and dig my nails into his skin, finding my efforts futile.

“It’s a lovely place, here. You should thank me for facilitating your reason for being here. It’s fate really. And a wonderful place to die.”

I allow Collins’s voice to replace my own inner monologue of self-doubt. And it’s my mental version of him who walks me through my next steps.

I can do this.

Even in the darkness of my own mind’s breakdown, I can still do this.

I am strong.

I stomp my foot onto Mark’s, and then immediately follow it up with a backward punch to his groin. While he’s distracted, I push all the furniture from the door and race into the hallway, distancing myself from the key player in this horrible game.

But when I get into the fluorescent light, all chaos breaks out.

“Penny, get down!” a familiar voice screams.

Collins.

And I do.

Throwing myself to the floor, I cover my head and ears.

“Mark’s in the room!” I yell, hoping he doesn’t have a chance to escape through a window or something. “Get him! And his twin brothers and Rex! His family!”

Gunshots fire around my head, whizzing past me and making chills run up my spine.

Feet stomp around me, and then suddenly I’m covered by Collins.

He wraps his arms around my body and rolls us toward the other side of the hall, so I’m facing the painted bricks and he is?—

“Ugh,” he chokes out. “Who gave him a fucking gun?”

Turning my head, I see the blood at his neck.

“You’ve been shot,” I cry out. “You’ve been shot!”

His hand goes to the site. “I’ll be okay. It grazed me.”

But I don’t believe it.

Collins’s blood gushes from his wound, and when I look up, I see Mark Tanner and the smoking gun that did it.

46

COLLINS

I’ve been shot before—but never like this.

There’s something about the nerves in the neck that hurts more than anywhere else.

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