บท 155: Chapter 155: Manuel To The Rescue

Amos cried out, startled, the image of the dead young man hanging static beside him, shadowy and indistinct and unexpected. I found myself hurtling forward as the killer suggested despite knowing it was a terrible idea, arms outstretched while Oliver did the same. Amos swung the gun around to threaten the old man. Pinpricks of irritation, irrational at a time like that, spiked my temper that he'd chosen the old man as his biggest threat, not the redhead who was going to kick his ass. Just as soon as she died of fright for doing something as stupid as throwing herself at a loaded gun.

Again. Nope, not the first time.

Slow motion grasped me in cold, muffled hands, making the world feel like it had been washed over with slowly freezing ice, slushy pull of time wound down to almost nothing making my chest ache.