Page 87 of Emerald

I see her wide, dark eyes looking into mine, trying to communicate everything we’ve haven’t had a chance to say to each other yet.

I want to tell her that I love her. That I want her to stay with me always.

I think she feels the same.

Sloane is the other half of me, my perfect match. I understand her, and she understands me.

So I know what she’s thinking when she glances down at the automatic rifle nestled against my shoulder. This is a Ruger AR 556 with armor-piercing rounds. It could go through a Kevlar vest at this range.

Remizov is just a little taller than Sloane. His chest a little higher behind hers.

She looks down at the rifle and back up to my face again.

She gives me the slightest of nods.

The idea is insane.

But I trust her. And she trusts me.

I raise the barrel of the rifle.

Remizov understands what’s about to happen right as I start to pull the trigger.

He tries to lift his gun, to shoot me before I can fire.

He’s too late.

I aim and shoot. Right through Sloane’s shoulder, just below the collarbone. Directly into Remizov’s heart.

Sloane slumps to her knees, her hand pressed against her chest.

Remizov tumbles backward off the balcony.

I drop the gun and sprint toward her. I tear off my shirt, ball it up, press it against the exit wound on her back.

I pick her up in my arms.

Her face is white with pain, but she’s lucid.

“Nice shot,” she says.

I feel like I might have just made the worst mistake of my life. I’m running back through the house, down the stairs, and then out the front door with Sloane in my arms.

I’ve completely forgotten about the fight on the grounds. When two men run toward me, I’m worse than helpless. But then I recognize Dom and Efrem. Efrem is bleeding from a wound on the arm, but Dom’s in one piece.

“How many people did you bring?” I demand furiously.

“All of them, you idiot,” Dom says. “You’re welcome.”

No time to fight about it right now.

“Where’s the car?” I say.

Dom takes one look at Sloane. She still has her hand pressed against her shoulder, but the blood is leaking out, running down her arm.

“I’ll get it,” Dom says, running off across the yard.

“Did anyone else get shot?” I ask Efrem.