My hand shakes, for the first fucking time ever. I instantly think of the praise Zack gave me the first time I ever held a gun and didn’t falter; he praised my confidence, and ability right off the bat. I was never nervous. That training feels fucking worthless at this moment in time.
I move silently as I enter the room further, taking as much effort as possible to steady my breaths and keep the panic at bay. I reach the sofa and when I find the source of blood, my whole world falls apart.
Zack is lying in a pool of his own blood with his eyes closed.
Please don’t be fucking dead.
I don’t hesitate to go to him and the relief I feel when I press my hand to his neck and his eyes snap open and hit mine. The look in his eyes shatters my whole fucking world. We may not have grown up together, but our circumstances meant our sibling bond grew quick and strong. I know that look, it isn’t just pain, it’s pure and unfiltered grief and that’s when I know. He doesn’t have to say the words, but he does, he knows I have to hear them.
He chokes, a mix between a breath and a gurgle as he says three words that crush my soul, “They have her.”
My daughter is gone.