Bang!
“Grace!”
Damien watched in horror.
For a moment, he saw the young girl from years ago, struggling in the mud. The fear of losing her was so overwhelming it wiped his mind blank.
He leaped toward a nearby support pillar and yanked a cable attached to it. A stack of heavy wooden crates toppled over, crashing down onto the gunman.
At the same time, the gunman's stray bullet severed the crane's hydraulic line.
The platform Grace was on shook violently and then broke away!
“Ahhh—!”
Grace plummeted from a height of ten feet.
The crushing pain she expected never came.
She fell into a warm, strong embrace, followed immediately by a muffled grunt of pain.
Damien had caught her, but the force of the impact sent him crashing into a pile of rebar behind him.
A rusty steel rod pierced his left arm, and blood instantly stained his white shirt.
“Damien!”
Grace scrambled up in a panic, fumbling to press her hands against his wound.
The blood was warm, thick, and crimson.
The sight of it made her pupils dilate, her breath coming in short gasps.
Her uncle's blood… her grandmother's blood… and now Damien's.
“Don't… don't cry…” Damien's face was pale with pain, but he forced himself to raise his right hand and wipe the dust from her face. “I'm not dead yet… you mourning me already?”
“Why…” Grace trembled all over, her voice broken. “Why did you catch me? You could have died…”
“Because…” Damien managed a weak smile. “You're my… whole world…”
The wail of sirens finally arrived.
SWAT teams stormed the warehouse.
Watching Damien being carried away on a stretcher, watching the trail of blood he left behind,
Grace knelt on the ground, her hands covered in his blood.
She suddenly felt so cold.
It was a chill that seeped into her bones, making her realize a terrible truth:
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