Guardian and the Devil

It turns out I wasn’t the only one tracking these hoodlums. As the piercing lights of police cruisers lit up the trees in a strobe of red and blue, I realized just how deep I’d gotten into this. I’d preferred to work alone—quietly. But the bastard was right.

I really did outdo myself this time.

The aftermath was gruesome.

Men sprawled over the cobblestone road—half of them bloodied, some motionless. Others groaned or whimpered, restrained by officers or stabilized by paramedics. The air reeked of gunpowder and blood. I stood in the middle, shaking slightly, my palm still sore from gripping the pistol. My side throbbed from the hit I’d taken earlier, and my heart hadn’t calmed since.

But I was breathing.

And so was Christina.

I saw her being pulled from the back of the truck—alive but trembling, barely holding herself together. The blanket around her shoulders couldn’t cover the violation in her eyes.

A firm grip landed on my arm. I turned quickly, defensive—but it was only Officer Rey