NICO
Ishould’ve let him bleed out.
Should’ve watched the light leave his eyes and walked the fuck away.
But I didn’t.
And nowI’mthe one losing sleep.
I saw it happen.
That split second. That twitch of the bastard’s hand.
The glint of the barrel.
The fucking crack of it.
And the way Julian’s body jolted back like a puppet with its strings cut.
Everything in me went still.
Then it snapped.
And I didn’t think. I just pulled the trigger. Over and over and over.
Three bodies dropped, maybe four. I lost count. Didn’t care.
But the one who mattered, the one who pulled the shot?
Slipped through my fucking fingers.
He won’t next time.
I’ll make himsuffer.
I’ll carve the skin from his bones and feed it to the dogs.
I’ll make him scream Julian’s name before I end him.
Because if anyone’s going to kill Julian Cross… it’s me.
Not some low-rank wannabe with shit aim.
But here’s the truth I can’t outrun: the bullet didn’t kill him.
It just woke something up in me I’ve been trying to drown.
I’m the one who dragged him into this.
I’m the one who pushed him into the line of fire.
And now I’m the one sitting beside his unconscious body like a fucking priest at a deathbed, watching his chest rise and fall, convincing myself he’s still here.
He looks pale. Fragile. Nothing like the venom-tongued bastard I’ve been circling for days.
The bandage over his shoulder is fresh and tight. I made sure of it.
He muttered something when I cleaned the wound, something about how it wasn’t a big deal.