Page 108 of The Gift
The ricochet caught him, tearing through his shoulder and punching out his chest. He staggered against the column as his vision blurred and the garage spun.
Voices cut through the haze, overlapping.
“Freeze! Federal agents!”
“Armed suspect on foot!”
“He’s in the garage. South side!”
Radios crackled. Footsteps pounded.
Help was here. Too late.
He held on, swaying. Then his legs gave out, and he hit the floor.
Someone dropped beside him. “Officer down! Need medics down here now!”
The last thing he saw was Erica’s face in the window. Then everything went dark.
***
One moment, Vince was rushing toward her; the next, the SUV lurched forward. As it pulled away, she twisted in her seat. For a moment, he was framed in the rear window. Then she saw movement behind him.
“Vince!” she screamed as Morgan raised his weapon and took aim.
But her warning was a waste of breath. He couldn’t hear, and the gray walls of the garage cut him off from view.
Gunfire cracked through the air. Pain tore through her, fierce and blinding. She doubled over, clutching her chest. A broken sound left her because she knew the pain wasn’t hers. It was his.
Hard fingers clamped onto her arm. “What’s wrong with you?” Kedrov said, irritation cutting through his calm. “You better not be ill.”
She was. Violently so. Darkness rolled off him, suffocating her. She yanked her arm away, gagging, but the connection remained.
The images came to her, not in a rush or in chaos, but in a slow, deliberate order. As if his mind were opening doors for her one by one.
A boy standing beside a man with white hair.
A hand guiding him toward a choice he never questioned.
A young man in a tailored coat standing at a graveside.
That same young man giving orders that others obeyed without hesitation.
Now an older man, colder, more ruthless.
A world that bent because demanded it to.
Though separate, each image stacked on top of the last. They didn’t feel like memories or emotions, but something much more intentional. A life arranged.
The images fractured suddenly. Then something worse happened. The pain stopped.
Just like that.
And with it, something else disappeared. Something she hadn’t noticed until it was gone. Her connection to Vince.
Not the sudden flashes and often overwhelming flood from strangers that she spent her life trying to control. With him, there had only ever been warmth, safety, and the quiet certaintyof him. Now there was no comfort, no presence. Nothing. He was gone.
“Vince…” she whispered, her voice breaking.
