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Jordan was still arguing with Sean, who looked like he was a second away from throwing him over his shoulder and forcibly carrying him out. His men had succeeded in herding most of the guests toward the exit.

I was about to interject and tell Jordan we should go outside and regroup when three things happened at once in seemingly slow motion.

The pianist rose from his bench and drew out a gun. The minister grabbed Jordan, and a familiar tall, dark figure sprinted into the church toward us.

Vuk. Panic suffused his face.

My ears rang. Time sped up again, and the next minute happened so quickly, I couldn’t keep track of it all.

The pianist swung his gun toward Vuk, one of Vuk’s men tackled him from behind before he could get off a shot, and the minister swung Jordan around, using him as a shield against Sean’s drawn weapon.

The pianist managed to free himself from the bodyguard. He took aim again, this time at the altar—straight toward me.

A gunshot rang out.

My body turned cold with terror. I should duck, run, do anything except stand there frozen, but I was too slow and the bullet was too?—

A large body tackled me to the ground as more gunshots ripped through the air. The taste of copper filled my mouth. Fresh screams erupted, something heavy crashed, and then…

Quiet.

I lay there, my mind so disassociated from the carnage that I couldn’t wrap it around what just happened.

I was breathing, maybe. I couldn’t tell. Everything was numb.

Vuk braced his arms on either side of me. His body covered mine so completely, I couldn’t see past his protective shield to the ceiling above. He said something, but his voice sounded like it was coming from underwater. It was too muffled for me to understand.

Instead, I turned my head to the side.

My stomach heaved, and another scream shattered the silence. It took several beats for me to realize the terrifying sound came from me.

Because lying unconscious next to me in a pool of blood, his skin whiter than death, was Jordan.

CHAPTER29

Vuk

Blood stained my hands.

The thick, red liquid dripped from my fingers, painting the floor with sins past and present.

Charred flesh. Screams. The resigned determination in Lazar’s eyes when he urged me to leave, and the heart-stopping moment when a bullet streaked through the air toward the altar.

In both cases, I’d had a split second to make my choice. Now Lazar was dead, and Jordan was…

“Sir.” The word floated beneath my pounding heartbeat. The walls closed in; the acrid scent of smoke tainted my nostrils.Drip, drip, drip,went the blood. “Sir!”

My head snapped up to see Sean staring at me, his face wreathed in concern.

The sight of him slowly brought the world back into focus.

I wasn’t at the church. There wasn’t a fire, and no one was pointing a gun at me. When I looked at my hands, they were clean—literally, at least. Not a drop of blood marred the polished wooden floor.

It was the day after the church attack, and we were in the living room of my secondary house in Westchester. We were safe—for now.

Not at all of us,a voice whispered in my head.

An image of Jordan’s deathly still body swam before my eyes. Guilt settled thick on the back of my tongue, but I swallowed it and forced my pulse to return to normal.