Vincent's finger tightens on the trigger. The tendons in his hand flex, that split-second tells me I've seen a hundred times on a hundred different men. Katherine stands three feet away, frozen, those brown eyes with gold flecks wide with understanding that death is coming.
I move.
Years of training compress into pure instinct, body acting before conscious thought. I grab Katherine's arm, yanking her down and back as my body twists between her and Vincent's gun. The world tilts as we fall, her soft curves colliding with my chest, my shoulders taking the impact as we hit the hardwood floor.
The gunshot is deafening in the confined space.
Pain explodes along my left side - hot, sharp, and immediate. A bullet grazed some distant part of my brain, but didn't penetrate, and I kept going. I don't have time to process because two more shots crack through the air in rapid succession.
Thomas.
