Familiar faces
Daphne’s POV
The strange smell of gunpowder lingered in the air, with curling smoke from Ambrose’s pistol as the attacker crumpled to the floor, his weapon skidding across the hardwood, blood pooling dark and glossy beside him. For the first time, I was relieved to see Ambrose’s gun. That dangerous object suddenly a promise of safety.
He and the other men fanned out, their boots thudding as they swept the apartment for anyone that still lurked around. My legs shook, but I ran to Troy, throwing myself into his arms, forgetting Mom was watching, and that I’d have a mountain of explaining to do later.
“I was so scared,” I sobbed, my face pressed against his chest, tears soaking his shirt. “I thought we were going to die.”
His heart pounded beneath my cheek, faster than I’
