Page 88 of The Hitman’s Final Job

“That’s all they’ve told me. He’s been in surgery for an hour, and no one has come out.”

“He’s going to be okay,” Silas says.

“You don’t know that.”

“No,” he says. “I don’t. But he’s a fighter, and he has a lot to fight for.”

I want to believe him. I want to hold onto his logic, but underneath it is the other thing I can’t stop thinking.

“This is my fault,” I say.

“Vaughn—”

“It is,” I say. “I’ve been receiving threats for two years. I knew the last one was different, but … I should have told Rowan. I should have told him what was happening. I told Sheriff Briggs, but Rowan is FBI. He could have⁠—”

“This is not your fault,” Silas says, his insistent gaze holding mine.

“That bullet was for me. I’m the one who should be in there.”

“How would that be any better? Rowan would be here doing exactly the same thing you’re doing.”

“If I lose him,” I say, and my voice breaks, “my life is over. I don’t know how to be in a world where Rowan isn’t in it. I don’t know how to do that.”

Silas pulls me back in.

He holds me tight, and I let him. I press my face against his shoulder and breathe through the anxiety and grief.

When I pull back, I touch his arm, and he flinches.

“You’re hurt.”

“It’s just a graze.”

I try to see the wound through his shirt, but of course I can’t. “A graze from what?”

“From a bullet. I chased the shooter.”

I stare at him.

“That’s why I left,” he says. “I saw the direction the shot came from, and I went after him.”

I’m stunned. “You chased the shooter?”

“Yes.”

“You ran after an armed man, who had just shot my son, and you— Silas, what were you thinking? You could have been killed. You could have—” The thought of Silas being caught in this …

“I’m fine,” he says.

“You were shot.”

“Grazed,” he insists.

“Why would you do that?”

He shakes his head and looks away.

“Vaughn …”