Chapter 6: The Shot

Bang!

The gunshot echoed through the rain. “Ethan!” Before I could move, he wrapped one arm around my waist and threw both of us to the ground. The bullet flew over our heads and slammed into the metal door behind us. Sparks flew into the air.

For one second, everything went silent. Then the warehouse shook again. Boom! Pieces of the roof crashed to the floor. “Everybody out!” a police officer shouted. “The building is coming down!”

Smoke filled the warehouse. Ethan pulled me back onto my feet. “Can you run?” I nodded. “Good. Stay beside me.”

Another shot rang out, shattering a window beside us. Marcus rushed toward us. “The sniper is still outside,” Ethan said calmly. “We don’t have time.” He grabbed my hand. “Let’s go.”

We ran through the smoke. The floor cracked beneath my feet and I lost my balance. Ethan caught my arm and pulled me against him. “Watch where you’re going.” “I was trying to avoid getting shot.” A tiny smile crossed his face. “It was a good plan.” “Did you just make a joke?” “It won’t happen again.” Despite everything, I laughed. For one brief moment, the fear disappeared.

Another wall collapsed behind us. “This way!” Marcus shouted, and we followed him out into the rain.

Officers surrounded the docks, weapons raised toward the rooftops. “Target spotted!” A dark figure stood on a nearby building, then vanished. Officers gave chase. Marcus lowered his radio after a moment. “He escaped.”

Ethan wasn’t looking at the rooftop. He was looking at me my face, my arms, my clothes, checking. “Are you hurt?” “No.” He let out a breath so quiet I almost missed it.

Then I saw the blood. A drop hit the wet ground, then another. “Ethan.” He looked down. His shirt had turned dark along the side. “You reopened your wound.” “It’s nothing.” “You almost died a few days ago.” “I’m still standing.” “That’s not the point.” His knees buckled slightly and he caught himself against a police car. “I’m fine.” “Stop saying that.”

A doctor hurried over. Ethan argued with him the same way he argued with everything flatly, immovably until I stepped in front of him. “Sit.” He raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” “I said sit.” “I don’t take orders.” “You do today.” For a moment we just stared at each other. Then, to Marcus’s visible delight, Ethan sat.

The doctor peeled back the bandage. Ethan didn’t flinch, not even when the antiseptic hit raw skin. “Doesn’t that hurt?” “It doesn’t matter.” “It matters.” I hadn’t meant to say it so plainly. He looked up at me, and for a second he wasn’t my bodyguard anymore just a man who looked faintly startled, like he wasn’t used to being worried about.

The doctor finished and walked off to see to another officer. Marcus went to deal with the police captain, leaving the two of us alone at the back of the ambulance, rain slowing to a mist around us.

Neither of us spoke for a while. I sat down beside him without asking permission this time. Close enough that our shoulders nearly touched.

“You don’t have to stay,” he said finally. “I know.” “I mean it. You could wait in the car.” “I know that too.” I looked at him. “I’m not leaving.” He didn’t argue. That, somehow, said more than if he had.

I reached over and touched the edge of the new bandage, checking the doctor had done it right. He went still under my hand but didn’t pull away. “You keep doing that,” he said quietly. “Doing what?” “Touching wounds that aren’t yours to worry about.” “Someone has to.” “I’ve managed fifteen years without it.” “Maybe that’s the problem.”

He looked at me then, really looked, in a way that made my chest tighten. For a moment I thought he might say something else something true. His mouth opened slightly. Then he stopped himself, jaw tightening, and looked back out at the rain instead. Whatever it was, he swallowed it.

I didn’t push. I just stayed where I was, close enough that he’d know I’d noticed, and let the silence be its own kind of answer.

It was Marcus who broke it, jogging back over, his face tighter than before. “We need to go. Now.” Ethan stood immediately, the moment folding itself away behind his usual composure. “What is it?” “The detective’s body. It’s gone.” Ethan’s stillness turned to something harder. “So is the key,” Marcus added.

“The killer came back?” I asked. “No,” Marcus said. “He never really left.”

My phone rang before I could respond. Dad. “Lillian. Are you hurt?” “No.” A pause, too long. “Bring Ethan home.” “Why?” “Because we’re no longer dealing with kidnappers.” I looked at Ethan, who was watching me now with the stillness of a man bracing for something. “What are we dealing with?”

My father’s voice dropped, quiet in a way I’d never heard from him. “The man behind Sarah Knight’s death has finally come back.”

The line went dead. My hand was shaking when I lowered the phone.

“What did he say?” Marcus asked. I repeated it. Ethan closed his eyes, and when he opened them, the softness from a few minutes ago was gone completely, replaced by something colder.

He looked toward the dark road leading away from the docks. “This time,” he said, “he won’t escape me.”

I watched him walk toward the car, and for the first time I understood — whatever had just started between us in the quiet after the gunfire, it was already being pulled apart by something older than me, older than tonight. Something I didn’t understand yet.

But I intended to.