ANDREA
Blood.
It smelt like hot iron. It smelt like copper being melted or a thousand coins melting.
I blinked rapidly, forcing my vision to settle on George's body slumped beside me. He fired a shot but now his eyes were closed, but I saw the movement of his chest. His gun had fallen, clattering as it slipped from his fingers.
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. The s**t didn't hit me. Who did it hit?
Another pair of hands grabbed me—not tight, not rough. It was warm and gentle. Someone murmured something I couldn't catch. The ropes around my wrist stung as it was tugged off. My legs had gone numb. I couldn't tell if I was shaking or if it was the ground.
“Where is my dad?” My voice came out as a whisper. I twisted, peering past officers, past the chaos of getting George to stand on
