Page 4 of Shadow

Not running—that would draw attention. Just walking. Eyes on his phone. Texting. The universal sign of distraction.

He angled his path to intersect Carlo’s position.

Out of his peripheral vision, he noticed Dmitri lean forward on the bench. As long as he didn’t pull his own pistol…

Five feet.

The weapon rose. Suppressor attached. Carlo’s finger on the trigger.

Asher stumbled forward, phone slipping from his hand, body colliding with Carlo’s right side just as the man squeezed off the shot.

The gun jerked. Muzzle flash in his peripheral vision.

The suppressor muffled but didn’t silence—sharp crack echoing off marble.

Asher righted himself just as a scream lifted.

Martha went down.

No!

Deputy Marshal Ethan Butler spun, weapon clearing leather. “Shooter! Get down!”

Roberts returned fire. Two shots, cracking through the enclosed space. Diane’s scream—high and piercing—cut through everything.

More shots from the courthouse entrance. Michael Martinelli’s voice—Renegade PD—shouting commands. Asher hadn’t seen him come in, but of course he’d be here.

Asher turned, stumbling out of the way just as Carlo jerked. Blood exploded across expensive gray fabric.

Perfect shot.

The man fell.

The elderly woman dove off her bench, her husband covering her. Lawyers scattered. Someone hit the coffee cart—Diane’s—and sent it crashing, hot liquid spreading across marble in a dark pool.

Asher scrambled to Martha’s side.

Blood bloomed across her cream blouse. Chest wound. High. Center.

Fatal.

But not instant. Her blue eyes widened.

“Stay with me, Martha!” Asher pressed his hand to the wound. Blood—hot and slick—pulsed through his fingers with her heartbeat. Too fast. Too much. “Help is coming. Just stay⁠—”

Deputy Marshal Ethan Butler knelt beside him, radio already at his mouth. “Witness down. Courthouse lobby. GSW to the chest. We need EMTs now!”

Martha’s hand shot out and grabbed Asher’s jacket with surprising strength. She pulled him close. Her eyes—wide, desperate, already glazing—found his.

“I’m sorry.” Barely a whisper. Blood on her lips. On her teeth. “I’m…sorry…”

“Don’t talk. Save your strength.” Asher kept pressure on the wound even though he could feel the life pulsing out of her with each heartbeat. “You’re going to be fine. Just⁠—”

Her eyes lost focus.

“Martha? Martha, stay with me!”

Her hand went slack and fell away from his jacket.