79
The gunshot came out of nowhere, so close it made my ears ring. I froze for a split second, but the sound of a second shot, this one whizzing just past Adeline’s head, jolted me into motion.
Adeline dropped low, her movements fluid and precise as she darted behind a rusted dumpster. "Shit!" she snarled, the word cutting through the chaos. Her gun was in her hand almost immediately, her grip steady as if the weapon were an extension of her body.
I scrambled to follow, my breaths coming in short, panicked gasps. The world seemed to tilt as another shot rang out, this one sparking off the concrete inches from where I’d just been standing. My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it would burst from my chest.
Adeline’s voice cut through the ringing in my ears. “Are you fucking kidding me, Eleanor?!”
“It wasn’t me!” I managed to yell, my voice trembling as I pressed myself flat against the cold, dirty ground. Another bullet ricocheted off the metal of the dumpster with a deafening clang, sending a shower of sparks into the air.
Another bullet whizzed past, hitting the dumpster with a deafening clang. Sparks flew, illuminating Adeline’s face for a split second—anger, so much rage that her face was red.
She shifted positions, crouching low as she leaned against the car for cover, her gun steady in her hands. “Yeah, I know it wasn’t you,” she snapped, spitting the words like they tasted foul. “But for some goddamn reason, trouble sticks to you like fucking glue.”
My cheeks flushed with humiliation, but there was no time to defend myself. Another shot cracked through the air, hitting the ground just inches away from my leg. I scrambled backward, my heart hammering in my chest.
“Jesus Christ,” Adeline growled, firing back two rapid shots. The sharp reports of her gun echoed down the empty street. “You don’t just attract trouble, you summon it. Like some kind of goddamn magnet.”
“I didn’t—”
“Shut up, Eleanor!” she hissed, cutting me off. Her eyes flicked toward me, cold and blazing all at once. “Do you ever stop to think? Ever?”
Her words stung, but before I could process them, she moved, darting forward with the kind of precision that screamed she’d done this before, probably more times than I could imagine.
I stayed frozen, trying to make myself as small as possible, while she kept firing, her shots ringing out like thunderclaps.
“You’re lucky I’m not letting you deal with this shit alone,” she bit out, her voice strained but steady. “Hell, if it weren’t for me, your dumbass would already be full of bullet holes.”
My stomach churned, her words cutting deeper than they should have. But she wasn’t wrong. Not entirely.
She leaned out just enough to assess the situation, her sharp eyes scanning the dark, empty lot. "Stay down!" she barked, her tone leaving no room for argument.
I obeyed, curling into myself as I tried to make sense of the chaos. The night was cold, biting at my exposed skin, and the gravel beneath me felt sharp and unforgiving. My hands were trembling, my breaths uneven. How was she so calm?
Another shot rang out, but this time it was hers—a clean, measured response to the assault. Her Sig Sauer P320 was loud and deadly, the sound echoing off the concrete. I flinched at the noise, but she remained unfazed.
“Fucking amateurs,” she muttered, more to herself than to me, as if this were just another Tuesday for her.
I couldn’t move. My legs felt like lead, my body rooted to the ground as fear coursed through me. This wasn’t the first time I’d been in a situation like this, but it was the first time I’d felt this helpless, this vulnerable.
Adeline’s voice snapped me out of it. “Move! Now!”
She was already up, darting toward the patrol car parked a few feet away. Her movements were quick and precise, like she knew exactly what to do, where to go. Another shot shattered the rear window of the car, sending shards of glass raining down.
I forced myself to move, my legs shaky but obedient. The cold air seared my lungs as I scrambled to follow her, nearly tripping over my own feet. The sounds of our boots on the concrete felt deafening in the tense silence between gunfire.
Adeline crouched beside the car, her gun still raised, her eyes scanning the lot like a hawk. “Two o’clock,” she murmured, almost too low for me to hear. Then she fired—twice, in quick succession. The shots echoed, and a grunt of pain confirmed she’d hit her target.
“Let’s go!” she shouted, grabbing my arm with a grip that was iron and unyielding.
I stumbled after her, barely able to keep up as she pulled me toward the edge of the lot. My lungs burned, my chest heaving as I tried to breathe through the panic and the cold.
Behind us, the lot was silent again, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes watching, of danger still lurking in the shadows. Adeline didn’t stop. She didn’t even slow down. Her pace was relentless, her gun steady and ready, as if expecting another attack at any moment.
“Keep up, Eleanor,” Adeline snapped, her voice sharp and unrelenting. She didn’t even bother to glance back, her strides long and purposeful.
I tried to match her pace, I really did, but my legs felt like jelly. Each step was a battle against the churning in my stomach, the bile that rose every time my mind flashed back to Joe—his blood, his brains splattered against the wall like some grotesque painting.
The streetlights grew sparse as we moved farther away from the station. The air felt heavier here, oppressive, as though the darkness itself was pressing down on us. My breathing quickened as we entered a shadowed alleyway. It was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that prickled at the back of your neck, warning you that something wasn’t right.
Then, out of nowhere, something slammed into me.
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