“No,” he whispers, brushing his fingers against my cheek, “you were right. Sometimes you have to be reckless for someone you love.”

He draws me to him, his lips pressing into mine, first soft, then harder. Passion rips through me, heating up my chest, my arms, my hands. I fold into him, drinking up this moment of sweetness. Our first kiss. Our last.

When he pulls away, I’m light-headed and breathless. “Clay.”

He gives me one more longing look. Then he draws his gun, strides through the doorway and opens fire.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“No!” I shout.

My voice is drowned out by the rattle of gunfire.

In the hallway bullets ping off the walls, lights shatter. A smoke grenade plinks off the tile and begins spewing gas into the air. Betsy and Ethan cower. I can’t take my eyes off the spot where Clay was a moment ago. He sacrificed himself for me.

I can’t let him die.

I grab his father’s revolver and spin toward Betsy. “Get my mother and Ethan out. Clay and I will cover you.” Her eyes are round, cow-like. I grip her arm hard. “Find a way, Betsy. Tell me you will.”

She blinks and nods, her curls bobbing slightly. There’s no perky smile now. “Okay,” she says.

Ethan’s hand snakes around my arm. “No, Riley!” He pulls me away from the door and the gunshots that crackle every few seconds. There’s no time.

“I love you!” I hoist the revolver and run into the smoke-filled hallway.

I skid to a stop next to Clay, my eyes burning. He looks at me and frowns, but his attention turns to a bullet cutting through the smoke like an angry hornet. It zings past close enough to blow my hair back. Behind us a light shatters. I hear the whine of the gurney wheels as Betsy and Ethan push my mother down the hallway.

Everyone I love is in peril at this moment.

A guard rushes through the smoke, gray tendrils curling around him. I see the whites of his teeth before the barrel of his gun aims for my chest. Clay fires and the guard staggers into the wall, but not before he gets a shot off. There’s a thunk and a spray of blood from Clay’s thigh. He lets out a snarl of pain, but aims and drops the guard with a bullet to the brain. Clumps of red and gray splatter the pristine hospital walls.

A moment of silence. My eyes are streaming, but I lock them forward and peer into the smoke. Beside me Clay’s fingers fly as he reloads. The silver chamber spins as the bullets drop in with quiet clicks.