Burton looked ghastly. There was no other word for it.

“Is it over?” Farrah whispered. She looked up at Gideon. “Please say it’s over.”

Gideon nodded once. “It’s—”

But he didn’t get to finish, because Ephraim Burton jerked, a quiet pop filling the air. The man toppled over as they watched in shock.

Farrah screamed. Then gagged.

Because half of Burton’s head was gone, his brain matter spattered over all of them.

Mercy stared in shock. No, more than shock. Her expression was slack, her eyes vacant. This was the disassociation he’d seen at the airport. Helplessly Rafe squeezed her a little too hard, trying to give her that little bit of pain she needed to defuse the panic.

“Mercy. Mercy.” But he’d missed that little bubble of quiet space she’d spoken of, that moment it took to center herself and stop the panic attack in its tracks. So he held her. It was all he could do. “Gideon?”

Gideon was still staring at Burton’s body. “Who . . . who shot him? I didn’t.”

At that moment Amos came running from the other side of the SUV, rifle in hand, and Gideon’s expression hardened. Coming to his feet, he bellowed, “What the hell, Amos? I had him subdued.”

Amos ignored Gideon’s question. “Mercy! Get her down!” he shouted, and a second later Rafe had been knocked over, Mercy still in his arms and Amos covering them both, having mowed them down with his body. Rafe felt Amos’s body jerk above his, just as Burton’s had done.

What the hell? What the fuck was happening?

“Oh no. Oh no.” Gideon fell to his knees. “Amos? Oh my God.”

Then there was a loud crack of gunfire, coming from the trees nearest the SUV. Daisy was still out there. What the actual hell? Why had she fired her rifle?

“Get him off me,” Rafe gasped, pushing at Amos, but the man was dead weight. “What’s happening? Who shot him? Did Daisy shoot him?” He didn’t know if he meant Burton or Amos or both of them. His thoughts were beginning to fray, his head spinning from the impact with the ground.

“I don’t know.” Then Gideon’s numb-sounding voice hardened in urgent command. “Farrah, get Mercy into the SUV. We have an active shooter.”

Rafe heard Daisy’s voice, getting louder as she came closer. She was running and out of breath. “That last shot was me. It was DJ who shot Burton. He was trying to shoot Mercy, but Amos . . .” She looked at Amos’s still form in dismay. “Oh God. He shot Amos?” Not waiting for a reply, she squared her shoulders, charging into action as she usually did. “I’ll get the first-aid kit. Farrah, come with me, honey. Gideon, get Amos off Mercy. I’ll come back for her in a second.”

Rafe’s head was still spinning from hitting it on the ground, and, coupled with Daisy’s whirlwind of energy, he was unable to think clearly. “Amos? You okay?”