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I aim and shoot. He screams, and I register that I managed to hit him somehow before another person takes me down.
I hit the ground, the gun in my hand going off and making my ears ring. There’s a lot of screaming, and I think someone is yelling at me. It takes a moment to register that Jensen is here too, and I didn’t see him coming in. His voice mixes with the rest of the noise, and I don’t focus on whatever he’s saying as my gaze bounces around the room.
Across the space, I see Vinny tucking Jo into his side. Her eyes are wide and she has one hand pressed over her ear, the other gesturing wildly to another man in an all-black outfit.SWATis branded across another person’s vest as they rush over to them, and it clicks slowly in my brain.
The last time this happened, Jo was dying. Unconscious.Burnt.
This time she has Vinny, but when her terrified gaze finds me in the chaos I think of another time.
I lose Porscha in the smoke when we both start coughing, and there’s flames rising on the other side of the room. I’ve never thought about what she keeps down here before, but her wild laugh in the foggy room makes my blood run cold.
Jo. I left her across the room to try and stop Porscha from doing anymore damage, and now I need to figure out how the hell I’m supposed to get her out of here.
She’s thrown herself partway off the table, her coughs heavy as she tries to breathe. I cough too, pounding on my chestas I grab her shoulder with one hand, undoing the belt around her legs and dragging her to me.
This is all my fault. Porscha hinted that her daughter was on her list, but I never thought she meant it literally.
Jo doesn’t open her eyes when I jostle her, and she’s hot to the touch. Her skin is sticky from the wounds, and when I drag her into my chest she groans but doesn’t say anything.
I kiss her temple before I take off, crossing the short room that suddenly feels endless. My eyes burn from the smoke, and I need to get us out of here.
“You’re going to be okay, Killer,” I whisper, but I don’t think she can hear me. She groans and doesn’t speak, and I make it over to the cellar doors before she responds.
I throw my shoulder into the doors twice before they finally give, splintering. I shove a third time and the right door flies open, fresh air spilling in as the smoke billows out. Coughing, I force myself to walk out of the cellar.
If we just get away from the smoke, the fire,Porscha,maybe we’ll be okay.
My lungs are burning by the time I stumble and fall, and there’s a commotion around us. Her eyes blink open for a moment in the fading light, and our gazes meet but I’m not sure she really sees me before they droop closed again.
I’m dragged away from her, surprise shooting through me. “Jo!”
A cop slams me into the ground, and I can twist around enough to see his uniform. His badge… Wallsburg. “Alastair Constantine, you’re under arrest.”
“Alastair Constantine,” Jensen says, his voice slicing through the chaos and dragging me back to the moment at hand. “You’re under arrest for fleeing federal prison, for the deaths ofKyle Wallsburg and the other CGS victims since your escape. You have the right to remain silent…”
His voice fades again as it registers that the FBI is trying to pin Porscha’s new kills on me.Son of a bitch.
He keeps talking, and I look up to stare at Jo and Vinny across the room. She’s no longer fighting, but her eyes look red as she watches. Vinny has an arm braced across her front, and she looks ready to try and fly over here and help.
I lick my lips, desperate to keep her from doing that. As the person above me jerks my hands into the cuffs, I try to meet her eyes when I speak. “Per sempre, fino all’ultimo respiro.”
It’s the only Italian phrase I ever picked up from Vinny, and instead of comforting her it just makes Jo cry harder. It’s a twist on what they once said to each other, something I learned from Vinny long ago. I try and shoot a smile at her before I’m dragged up from the floor, the words lingering between the three of us. It’s not the perfect translation, but Jo knows what my words are meant to mean.
Always, and to the bitter end.