The world was a kaleidoscope of fire and shadow, spinning out of control.
Ethan felt the heat before he felt the pain. The bullet had torn through the meat of his shoulder, a searing brand that demanded his attention, but his eyes were fixed on the doorway where Lila had vanished. The sight of those gloved hands dragging her into the dark the muffled scream that would haunt his nightmares was a wound far deeper than anything lead could inflict.
"Lila!" he gasped, his voice a broken rasp.
He tried to stand, but his knees buckled. Blood, hot and slick, was already soaking through his white dress shirt, turning the pristine silk into a macabre flag of defeat.
Across the room, Alistair Blackwood stood unmoved, the small pistol still clutched in his withered hand. He looked down at his son
