Page 67 of A Breath of Life (Shadowy Solutions #4)

Down the hall, in the direction Tallus headed, a carved wooden archway welcomed parishioners to a private chapel.

Tall stained glass windows, artfully crafted to display the stations of the cross, lined both sides of the narrow space.

It was a haunting display without a backing of sunlight casting rainbow prisms on the pews below.

Before I could blink, Tallus was halfway down the next hall, skip-hopping along like the Energizer Bunny. “This way. This way,” he called.

That was when I heard a crash from the basement—a precariously stacked pile of cardboard boxes filled with books falling over, I had no doubt.

“A door,” Tallus squealed, not quietly. “Come on, D. We can get out over here.”

I ran, trying to catch up as he plowed into it with his shoulder, likely anticipating it would open, but it didn’t. He crashed hard and rebounded, landing on the floor with a groan.

“Um, ow. That was… not expected.” He rubbed his shoulder and glanced up as I approached. “It’s locked,” he announced unnecessarily, like I hadn’t just witnessed his failed Wile E. Coyote impersonation.

“What? No more magic strength?”

He pouted.

The exit was a massive arch divided into two doors, wooden and intricately carved. I was on the wrong side, but I had the distinct feeling they were the same ones that I’d lain beside as I stared at a clear blue sky marred by a single contrail left behind by a distant airplane.

I couldn’t see a dead bolt anywhere and shoved the heavy wooden door with all my weight, confirming it didn’t budge.

Tallus got to his feet and brushed himself off. He must have heard the approaching men since he turned and faced the way we’d come, penknife at the ready. “Hurry up. Unlock it, Princess. I’ll hold them off.”

He would do nothing of the sort, but we’d be dead if I didn’t get the fucking door open. What the hell was holding it in place? I shoved again uselessly.

That was when I noticed the industrial slide bolts on the upper edges of the frame, locking the door in place and another in the middle, holding them together.

As I wiggled them from their slots, the sound of angry men and running feet grew louder.

Bolts undone, I tried the door again, but it still didn’t budge.

“For fuck’s sake.”

Two more slide bolts framed the bottom edges of the doors. I crouched and tried to work them free, but they resisted, tight in their slots. It required me to wiggle them back and forth several times before they came free.

On my feet, I shoved the door. It opened—the warm September air a relief I didn’t think I would ever feel again. The concrete platform and descending stairs were painted in blue and red swirling lights from the half dozen police cars parked along the street.

We’d made it. I turned back to collect my boyfriend, only to discover him out of reach. He’d moved halfway down the hall. Tallus waited near the corner in a fighting stance, prepared for battle.

My heart lurched into my throat .

“Tallus! Move it.” I ran toward him and managed to snag the strap of a suspender as the Consigliere rounded the corner, followed by two other men.

A grin grew so wide on the asshole’s face his teeth showed. “And there he is. I told you we’d find him.”

I tugged again at Tallus’s suspender strap, but he planted his feet and pointed the knife at the Consigliere. “Rot in hell, Bowser. You’re about to die. Diem, let me go. I’m ready.”

“Tallus.” I looped an arm around his middle and heaved him off the ground.

He bucked and protested as the Consigliere chuckled. “What did I tell you would happen if you didn’t follow our rules, Mr. Krause?”

I backed away, afraid to turn my back on them. Tallus hollered for me to put him down.

The Consigliere’s words screamed inside my head. My first thought was of Nana, but I remembered the Bishop’s phone in my pocket. As I considered the million other ways this guy might have to contact his phony nurse and end Nana’s life, the Consigliere stepped aside.

One of the other men drew a gun, aimed at Tallus, and before I could react, fired.

It happened so quickly that my mind took a beat to register.

Only when Tallus, my fearless, reckless warrior whose drug-addled brain had given him courage and stamina and stupidity, jerked with the impact of a bullet, did the pieces click. I stumbled with him still in my arms, the force of the shot throwing me off-balance.

A roaring, inhuman cry echoed in the close hallway and vibrated the air. It was my cry. Transformed by a level of pain I’d never felt in my life, a curtain of red descended over my vision. Liquid hot rage burned in my veins, in my core. My heart fucking shattered.

Tallus no longer fought. He’d gone still, dead weight in my arms .

The men fled in the other direction.

Part of me wanted to chase them down and break their necks. Shred the skin off their bones. Show them the true essence of pain. Torture them until they begged me to put them out of their misery.

But Tallus. Tallus, Tallus, Tallus.

Oh god, Tallus. Oh shit. Oh no.

No, no, no, no!

He wasn’t moving. He wasn’t fucking moving.

“Tallus. Tallus, no. Tallus.”

I lay him gently on the ground. Wide, panicked eyes sought me out. His blue lips made the motion of gasping, but each time he tried to suck air, his body resisted. He moved a trembling hand to his chest and raked his fingers over the fabric of his shirt, gulping desperately to no avail.

A lung. The bullet must have pierced a lung.

“Breathe, Tallus. Come on. Breathe.” I fumbled the Bishop’s phone from my pocket and thanked god it didn’t require a password to make an emergency call. My hands shook so badly I could barely make them function enough to dial 9-1-1.

I put it on speaker and dropped it beside me, pressing my hands over his, knowing subconsciously I had to stop the…

Wait.

He wasn’t bleeding.

There was no blood.

Where was the fucking blood?

He gasped. Wheezed. The skin under his eyes and around his lips turned purple. He shifted his attention to the ceiling, his expression distant and unfocused.

“No. No, Tallus.”

No blood. No blood. But he was shot .

My brain malfunctioned as I peeled his hands from his shirt and discovered a distinct bullet hole through the fabric.

No blood. No blood no blood no blood no blood.

Why was there… Where was the…

I ripped the shirt open. An undershirt. Another hole. I tore it from his body as well and staggered at the discovery. A vest. He wore a fucking vest.

No blood.

A vest.

I touched it like it wasn’t real. Noted the indent from the close-range shot and moved my finger to the tiny crevice over his heart. Tallus found my hand and squeezed. Our eyes locked, his fading in and out of focus.

He wasn’t going to die, but he wasn’t able to breathe. That much was clear.

I understood now.

I cradled his face and coached him, offering soothing words and reassurance.

“Don’t panic. It will make it worse. You got the wind knocked out of you.

That’s all. Slow breaths. In and out. Copy me.

” I showed him, knowing distinctly what it was like to be hit so hard you couldn’t breathe. The terror was real.

Multiple things happened at once. The church door behind us burst open as a group of armed, riot-clad officers barreled inside.

The receptionist at 9-1-1 asked over and over, “Hello? Are you there?” and Tallus’s diaphragm finally stopped spasming, allowing him to suck tiny gulps of air into his thirsty lungs.

His color didn’t improve, but it was something.

“That’s it. A little at a time. It’ll get better. Trust me.” I stroked his cheek, wishing I could take away the fear and pain in his eyes. “I love you, Tallus. I love you. I love you so fucking much. ”

My attention drifted to the indent in the vest more than once. An indent that sat over his heart. He would have died.

The room spun at the thought, and it took effort to concentrate and not tumble down a pit of what-ifs.

Two uniforms crouched beside Tallus, checking him over.

“He needs an ambulance.” The anguished voice belonged to me.

“We have one outside. I’ll send for a paramedic,” one officer said.

Before the guy got to his feet, I shook my head. “No. I’ll take him.”

Carefully, cautiously, I cradled Tallus in my arms like he was the most fragile, most precious thing on earth—and he was. To me, he was. The officer helped me to my feet and walked with us outside, guiding me in the right direction.

Tallus’s breathing improved slightly, but he continued to wheeze and clutch his chest. Pain radiated across his face, and his attention kept slipping. His lips remained blue.

“It’s okay. We’ll get you help. I’m here with you. Always, Tallus. Always.”

I didn’t want to hand him off to strangers, no matter how capable or qualified. I wanted to keep him in my arms, against my chest.

Reluctantly, I laid him on a gurney and let the professionals evaluate him. To the officer who’d accompanied me, I asked, “Did you get them?”

“We’ve made arrests.”

“What about the men who shot him? There’s a tunnel.”

“We discovered it on a floor plan. Every exit was covered. If they haven’t been nabbed yet, they will be.”

“They—”

The man clasped my shoulder. “We’ve got this, bud. Head to the hospital with your friend. We’ll send someone along to talk to you. ”

He’s not my friend , I wanted to growl. He’s my blood and skin and bones. He’s the reason my heart continues to beat. He’s the glue that keeps me from shattering. The reason I’m still alive. He’s my savior. My salvation. My own personal paradise. Without him, I am nothing.

But the man would never understand.

I hated cops and wanted nothing more than for this whole ordeal to end, but I nodded, agreeing to whatever he needed because it was easier than trying to make words.

Before they moved Tallus into the ambulance, he reached for my hand.

A word moved his lips, but no sound accompanied it.

“I don’t understand.”

“Work on breathing, buddy,” the paramedic said. “Don’t try to talk just yet.”

Tallus shook his head and tried again regardless. That time, he put enough air behind it, a faint sound escaped. “Nana.”

My heart skipped, and I fumbled the Bishop’s phone from my pocket. “Evergreen Estates nursing home,” I said to the officer. “They had a guy planted there, dressed as a nurse. He was going to—”

“We got a call a little while ago. The home is secure. All the residents are accounted for.”

“And the man?”

“In custody.”

How? I wanted to ask. Who?

“Sir, maybe you should have someone look at your injuries.”

My injuries? What the fuck was he talking about? “I’m fine.”

I had so many questions, but none of them mattered. Nana was okay. Tallus was alive. I returned to his side. He seemed to be anxiously awaiting a response. “She’s safe. ”

He grinned from behind an oxygen mask and gave me a thumbs-up. Christ, even with chest trauma, he was a breath of life.