I put my hands on where I thought the wound was and tried to apply pressure. I wasn’t entirely sure if I was helping at all. I couldn’t get the range of motion I needed with the zip tie on my wrists.

Bullsen bent over at the waist. “That won’t help. I know right where to slide the blade. Remember that when you’re working for me.”

Sirens. I could hear sirens in the distance.

“They won’t know where we are, right? What the fuck?” Bullsen stormed off, Endgame’s fate falling in his list of priorities.

Endgame coughed and then groaned.

“Hey, the police are coming, and they’ll have ambulances. Just hang in there.”

“I’m sorry.” His lips made a flat line.

“Now’s not the time to worry about blame.” I glanced up to see Bullsen and his men darting around the building. They were either getting rid of evidence or gathering things together to leave.

The police sirens were getting louder and seemed to be multiplying.

“He’s gonna hate me so much.” Endgame’s cheeks filled with air before he exhaled.

I knew who he was talking about. And I couldn’t offer any condolences. Because Austin would be wildly angry, if we ever got to see him again.

“Can you tell him?” There were a few seconds where Endgame coughed and sputtered. He seemed to fortify himself to keep talking.“Tell him I ain’t never loved anyone, but right now?” Endgame’s eyes filled with tears and his bottom lip quivered. “All I can see is his face.”

My tears that had started with Bullsen doubled. Endgame’s eyes focus on something behind me, then slid out of focus.

I had nothing to offer him, except half-assed pressure on his wound and a little bit of solace by saying, “I’ll tell him.”

The next few breaths were horrible, and I felt the wound under my hands bubbling with air. His lung—that was my guess. Bullsen’s knife had pierced his lung.

I tried to make myself small, in a bid to be forgotten by the men running around.

I reached for Endgame’s throat and tried to get a pulse. Nothing.