Page 67
Story: The Sniper
She didn’t move—just stared, like she could see through the blood, through the body, into whatever hell had brought this to her.
I touched her shoulder, gentle, but she flinched, hard, and when she looked at me, it wasn’t grief or fear—it was something worse.
Doubt.
Accusation.
“You did this,” she whispered, barely audible, her voice shaking with it.
“No,” I said, fast, desperate, leaning in. “I didn’t—I swear, I didn’t?—”
But she shook her head, pulling back, the paper still crumpled in her hand, her eyes saying what her mouth wouldn’t.
She didn’t believe me.
And fuck, that was worse than any bullet.
Carter was on the radio now, barking orders, Jace sweeping the perimeter, but I couldn’t focus—couldn’t think past her face, the way she’d shut me out, sentenced me without a word.
I’d lost her—right there, in the sand, with a dead man’s brains staining the beach and a rifle shot ringing in my ears.
Didn’t know how to get her back.
Didn’t know if I could.
19
HALLIE MAE
Istormed off that beach like the tide was chasing me.
Didn’t look at the body. Didn’t look at Noah. Just shoved the paper into my bag and walked—fast, blind, like I could outpace the crack forming in the center of me. The sidewalk burned under my sandals, the sun far too bright for the things I’d just seen. For the blood still fresh on the sand.
I didn’t wait for an explanation. Couldn’t.
Because whatever Noah might’ve said, I wouldn’t have believed it.
I barely remembered driving home. Just the hum of the road beneath me and the taste of betrayal in my mouth. My hands shook on the wheel. My throat burned from the things I hadn’t screamed.
And now a man was dead.
And Noah was the reason.
I didn’t cry until I got inside. Slammed the door behind me, dropped my bag on the floor, and turned the lock like it would keep everything out.
But it didn’t.
Because two minutes later, he was there.
Banging on my door like it owed him something.
“Hallie Mae,” he growled through the wood, voice low and sharp. “Open the door.”
I didn’t move.
“I swear to God, I’ll break it down if you don’t.”
That did it.
I touched her shoulder, gentle, but she flinched, hard, and when she looked at me, it wasn’t grief or fear—it was something worse.
Doubt.
Accusation.
“You did this,” she whispered, barely audible, her voice shaking with it.
“No,” I said, fast, desperate, leaning in. “I didn’t—I swear, I didn’t?—”
But she shook her head, pulling back, the paper still crumpled in her hand, her eyes saying what her mouth wouldn’t.
She didn’t believe me.
And fuck, that was worse than any bullet.
Carter was on the radio now, barking orders, Jace sweeping the perimeter, but I couldn’t focus—couldn’t think past her face, the way she’d shut me out, sentenced me without a word.
I’d lost her—right there, in the sand, with a dead man’s brains staining the beach and a rifle shot ringing in my ears.
Didn’t know how to get her back.
Didn’t know if I could.
19
HALLIE MAE
Istormed off that beach like the tide was chasing me.
Didn’t look at the body. Didn’t look at Noah. Just shoved the paper into my bag and walked—fast, blind, like I could outpace the crack forming in the center of me. The sidewalk burned under my sandals, the sun far too bright for the things I’d just seen. For the blood still fresh on the sand.
I didn’t wait for an explanation. Couldn’t.
Because whatever Noah might’ve said, I wouldn’t have believed it.
I barely remembered driving home. Just the hum of the road beneath me and the taste of betrayal in my mouth. My hands shook on the wheel. My throat burned from the things I hadn’t screamed.
And now a man was dead.
And Noah was the reason.
I didn’t cry until I got inside. Slammed the door behind me, dropped my bag on the floor, and turned the lock like it would keep everything out.
But it didn’t.
Because two minutes later, he was there.
Banging on my door like it owed him something.
“Hallie Mae,” he growled through the wood, voice low and sharp. “Open the door.”
I didn’t move.
“I swear to God, I’ll break it down if you don’t.”
That did it.
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