63
JOHNNY
Gunfire, smoke, bodies flailing and voices crying out.
I duck and squint through the mayhem, desperately searching for the most important person in my world.
My breath catches in my chest. Where the fuck could she be?
My vision blurs, and a person stumbles into me, nearly knocking me down.
Their body hits the concrete with a thud.
I ignore them and continue my search, moving in the direction my soul urges me. “Claire!” I call out.
She was right here. Right at my side. Literally connected to me. And in one flash, she was gone.
In a matter of seconds, dozens of scenarios play through my mind, none of which diminish the panic coursing through me. The idea of something happening to Claire unleashes a tidal wave of fear unlike anything I’ve ever known.
I will rip apart every single person in here if a single hair on her head is harmed.
I shuffle toward the chair bolted to the ground. The one with Rosie attached to it. The one Claire had rushed toward after Franklin drew his blade across her best friend’s neck.
My heart aches. All I wanted was to keep Claire safe. To save Rosie. To get Claire far, far away from this madness and give her the life she deserved.
The shape of her comes into my line of sight, relief washing over me. I’m not sure if my feet have ever moved as quickly as they do, dodging every person and flying debris that comes my way.
I skid to a stop beside her. “Claire, are you…” But other than the damage already on her face, there is nothing physically wrong with Claire, just the terror raging through her as she keeps her hand placed firmly against Rosie’s bleeding neck.
She turns to me, a helpless look I’ve never seen on her before. “Johnny, help me.”
I immediately go into action, reaching across and into the waistband of Claire’s pants, pulling out the small, concealed knife that the man who patted her down missed. I drag it along the zip ties holding Rosie in place, one by one freeing her from her restraints.
She collapses forward, Claire and I both catching her. Rosie drags her hands to her own neck in an attempt to stop the bleeding.
“Here.” I tug the fabric out of her mouth and pull it down over her throat, then motion for them to put pressure on the wound again.
I barely get it in place before the entire building flashes with light and a loud explosion bows my eardrums.
“Fuck!” I throw my body over Claire and Rosie the best I can, shielding them from the debris.
Splintered wood and concrete chunks are raining down, and I look down to see a severed hand skidding to a stop a few feet from us.
A large figure barrels toward us, and I raise my arm to throw the knife in their direction.
Josey throws his arms up. “Whoa, it’s me.” He drops to his knees beside Claire, ducking when gunfire goes off near us.
We are surrounded by absolute chaos, corralling us in the center of this battleground.
Josey reaches behind him, drawing two guns and holding them out. “Here.” He nods to Rosie. “I’ll take her.”
Claire meets my gaze, then Rosie’s. She doesn’t want to let her friend go, but she needs medical attention if she’s going to live through this. And considering Claire and I are both unfamiliar with this kind of thing, it makes sense to let someone more experienced take control.
“I’ll keep her safe,” Josey tells Claire. He extends his arm and blocks a body from barreling into us. “But we need to go,now.”
I can sense Claire wavering, resisting putting her faith in someone other than herself—other than me. It’s her call, but I hope like hell she makes the right one.
Whatever that may be.