Page 101 of Fallen Heir

Then his hand shifted.

The gun that had been trained on me moved, swinging toward Savannah.

The second I saw it happen, everything inside me detonated.

But I was too late.

The shot rang out—one deafening crack that seemed to freeze the air.

Savannah jerked back, her entire body snapping as if the life had been ripped from her in one violent pull. She collapsed to the dirt, her legs folding awkwardly beneath her, her hands instinctively reaching for the wound as she hit the ground.

For a moment, my brain couldn’t register it.

It didn’t compute that she was falling.

That she’d stepped in front of me.

That she’d chosen to take the shot meant for me. No.

No.

My vision tunneled, locking on Bruce as my body moved on instinct, like some primal force had taken control. The distance between us disappeared in a breath. His gun was still raised, still warm from the shot that had ripped her from me.

I grabbed his wrist mid-air, twisting hard until I felt the bone snap under my grip. The sickening pop of his fracture barely registered through the rage roaring in my chest. His scream split the air, but I didn’t stop. Not for a second.

My hand clamped over his, still gripping the gun. My finger slid alongside his on the trigger as I shoved the barrel upward beneath his chin, digging into the soft tissue.

His eyes went wide, terror finally breaking through the arrogance. He tried to scream but couldn’t.

And then I pulled.

The shot cracked like a thunderclap in the clearing.

His body jolted once—then crumpled onto the dirt in a lifeless heap. Useless. Like the pathetic excuse of a human he once was.

But I didn’t see him fall. I’d only heard the sound.

Because the second his life ended, I lunged for her.

“Savannah!”

I dropped to my knees, sliding hard into the dirt beside her, my hands instantly finding the wound, pressing down as blood poured through my fingers, thick and warm, soaking into my palms like it belonged there.

There was so much blood.

Too much.

“No, no, no... baby, stay with me.”

My voice broke. My hands shook.

But I pressed harder, trying to hold it in, to keep it inside her, like maybe if I just held on tight enough, I could stop it from barreling out.

Her eyes fluttered open—barely.

But they found me. God, they found me.

“I’m here,” I whispered, leaning in, forehead pressed to hers, desperate to ground her, to hold her tethered to this world. “You’re okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, baby. Just hold on.”