Page 79 of Far from Destined

Suddenly, there was a fiery pain in my leg as we both fell. I heard a scream, and then there was nothing.

Chapter 19

Macon

The echoof the gunshot filled my mind, but this time, it wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t my past.

I could smell the sharp stench of gunpowder, feel the burn in its wake, but I wasn’t standing in the shop nor off the back patio, I wasn’t watching my life end.

Instead, I heard a sharp gasp, and then both Adam and Dakota were on the ground.

Dakota wasn’t moving, and everything broke inside me. A chasm of death and destruction filled me, and I knew I needed to stop it. I knew I needed to move forward and find a way to think, make sure she was okay, but all I saw was that sniveling piece of a man backing away from Dakota, his eyes wide and vacant.

As if he hadn’t realized or couldn’t comprehend that he had just shot Dakota.

I roared and went at him. Adam looked at me, his stoned eyes widening comically before he reached for the gun. I kicked it out of the way and leapt on him. I punched him over and over. Adam tried to push at me, to pull free, but he was too weak.

And I wasn’t thinking clearly.

I punched harder, hitting him again.

Adam put his hands in front of his face and then kicked and punched. I saw a flash of silver to my right and realized that Adam had pulled a knife out of his pocket. I twisted the other man’s wrist, and he screamed in a high-pitched wail before the blade fell into the grass.

The grass now turning a rusty red because of the blood.

Dakota’s blood. I needed to go to her. I hit Adam again, one time after another. When Adam finally quit moving, I moved off him, my hands covered in red, and knelt beside Dakota.

She lay there, weak, her eyes fluttering open as she grabbed her leg. I stripped off my button-down shirt, leaving me in a tank, and rolled it into a ball, pressing it against Dakota’s calf.

She let out a scream and looked up at me, her whole body shaking.

“Joshua. Where is Joshua?”

“We’ll find him. We need to take care of you right now.”

“I’m fine. I think I am anyway.”

“We’ll make sure of that.”

Sirens wailed, and I knew that someone had likely heard the gunshot and called, or maybe even they had realized that the plainclothes officers weren’t answering their phones.

I didn’t care how it had happened, but help was coming.

And then there was a terrified scream, a rustle in the trees, and Joshua ran out, a rope dangling from his ankle. He ran towards us, his hands duct-taped in front of him, his eyes wide, and tears streaming down his face.

“Get him. Get him!” Dakota rasped, her whole body convulsing with sobs.

I stood up, leaving Dakota—the hardest thing I’d ever done in my life—and ran towards Joshua. I picked him up, checked him for wounds, and only saw dirt and a few scrapes around his wrists and ankle. I crushed him close as he sobbed against my shoulder, calling out for his mom and me.

I didn’t let myself feel, didn’t let myself do anything yet. I went back to Dakota and held the bundle of cloth to her leg as I shouted for the authorities to come to the back yard.

The others I had knocked out were still out cold, thankfully, and I knew I’d have to answer for that. But I didn’t care.

I just rocked Joshua as I held Dakota and tried to push out the memories.

Because I knew that no matter how many times I relived the shooting, it would pale in comparison to this. I’d nearly lost Joshua and the love of my life, even though I still didn’t know if she would be okay.

People talked to me all at once then, and I answered questions, though I didn’t know how.