Page 57 of Beneath Scarred Vows

"Let's go, let's go," he calls as he scans the area with his gun.

My heart pounds against my chest and I can't seem to manage a full breath, but my body moves without thought—grabbing Calli's hand, pulling her along as we crouch low and run toward the SUV. The smell of gunpowder burns my nose, replacing Calli's perfume.

As we reach the SUV, Chris pushes us inside, slamming the door behind us. He jumps into the driver's seat, and the tires screech as we pull away from the curb. In the distance, I hear sirens wailing.

"Are you hurt?" Calli asks, her voice shaking. Her face is pale, mascara smudged beneath her eyes. There's a small cut on her cheek from flying debris, but otherwise, she seems unharmed.

I look down at my arm. The graze burns like hell now, a thin line of red across my upper arm. Blood soaks into the white fabric of my dress, blooming like a grotesque flower.

"It's just a graze," I say, pressing my hand against it to stop the bleeding. "Are you okay?"

She nods, but her eyes are fixed on the back window, looking at the chaos we're leaving behind. "Johnny," she whispers, her voice cracking. "He's..."

"I know," I say, reaching for her hand with my free one. Her fingers are ice-cold. "I'm so sorry."

We shift from side to side as Chris weaves through traffic. He's on his phone, speaking rapidly, telling the person on the other end what's just happened.

"Yes, sir. Multiple shooters. No, I got them out. Johnny didn't make it. Yes, boss, heading there now."

I know he's talking to Ares.

"Who was it?" I ask Chris, my voice shaky. "Who shot at us?"

"I don't know," he replies, swerving around a car and meeting my gaze briefly in the rearview mirror. "But we'll take care of it."

Calli wipes her face, smearing her makeup further. "This is about my dad, isn't it? They're coming after all of us now."

Chris doesn't answer.

Calli then turns to me. "You saved me," she says, her voice small. "You pushed me down before I even realized what was happening."

I don't know what to say. I hadn't thought about it; I'd just acted. The table, the dive, pulling her down—it had all happened in an instant.

"I just reacted," I say finally.

"No," she shakes her head. "Most people freeze. You didn't." She squeezes my hand. "Thank you."

I close my eyes, fighting tears. The adrenaline is wearing off, and pain radiates from my arm. But it's not just physical pain—it's everything. The memory of Johnny falling, the sound of screams, the fact that other innocent people might have been hurt.

"How bad is your arm?" Calli asks, noticing my grimace.

"Not bad," I lie. "It just stings a little. I'll be okay."

She looks down and sees it's still bleeding.

She takes some tissues from her purse. "Here," she says, "Maybe this will help stop it."

I grab them and press it to the cut.

"It's okay to be scared," she says softly. "I am too."

I nod and lean in. So does she, and our heads rest against one another.

We sit in silence for a few moments before she sits up straight and looks at me.

"My brother's going to find out who did this and fucking kill them."

I nod because there's not even an ounce of me that thinks she's wrong.