At the same time, someone cried out in pain, and I opened my eyes to see Celia press her hand to her temple, where a streak of red spilled down her cheek. I stared at her, stunned. I’d put a bullet in her brain. How—
That was when I noticed the camera behind her. Several reporters had ducked, and the camera was a smoking mess with a shattered lens. Though I’d grazed Celia, I’d missed doing any real damage to her, hitting the camera instead. Around us, the crowd began to riot, and the Shields who had been so focused on the stage now faced outward, pointing their weapons into the audience. Several people screamed and tried to run, but others only climbed over them, getting closer and closer to the platform. Fear seized me. I didn’t know if they were coming for me or Daxton or both of us.
“Give me that,” he snarled, and he grabbed the gun from me, loading it with another bullet. It must have only had one. “Stupid bitch. Might just shoot you next.”
“I—” I stood there dumbly, frozen in place, but Celia screamed, an animalistic sound that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. With inhuman speed, she hurtled toward Daxton, crashing into him before he could close the chamber. They tumbled off the stage and onto the ground, knocking over a pair of Shields in the process.
I started to move toward the edge of the stage to help her, but Greyson grabbed my elbow. “Come on, we have to get out of here,” he shouted over the noise, and he pulled me toward the staircase instead. I looked over my shoulder, desperate for any sign of Celia, but she was in the middle of a knot of Shields now, all clamoring to break them apart. No doubt they couldn’t risk killing her without killing Daxton, too. And though it would mean losing Celia, I hoped like hell they would try anyway. It was undoubtedly what she wanted.
Greyson and I pushed our way through the crowd, and a few startled guards from Daxton’s protection detail joined us. Faces blurred together, and I had no idea where we were going. Greyson seemed to know, however, and he led medown a zigzagged path, avoiding the worst of the crush.
As we neared the cars, a shot rang out from the platform, reverberating through the park and down my spine. I slowed, trying to see who had taken the bullet, but the crowd had swallowed the stage whole.
“Celia—” I began, but Greyson tugged me along. I stumbled, and a guard scooped me up, narrowly avoiding a collision with a pair of young men brandishing sticks. They were running for the platform, not us. They were after Daxton.
When we reached the car, Greyson skidded to a stop. “That’s going to be useless,” he said, and I forced myself to focus long enough to see the four shredded tires.
“We’ll take the Prime Minister’s car,” said a guard, and he ushered us to another black limousine ten yards down the road. The tires on his were still intact, and the guard opened the door, shoving both of us inside. “Wait forthe Prime Minister,” he shouted to the driver before slamming the door and running back toward the melee.
“It must have killed him to protect us instead of Daxton,” said Greyson as we climbed toward the front of the limousine. His coat was rumpled, and his hat was askew, but he was unhurt.
“Do you think Celia killed him?” I said breathlessly, my brain still trying to process everything.
Greyson bit his lip. “I hope so,” he finally said, even though the driver was listening. “If there’s any justice in the world.”
He set his hands over mine, and it was only then that I realized I was trembling. Swallowing hard, I dug my nails into my legs, trying to regain control. Though the fighting continued in the park, with shots ringing out and screams rising above the fray, it was all oddly muffled in the car. “Why are they rioting? The Shields are going to kill them.”
“Because he tried to make you kill Celia.” He leaned in closer. “You did exactly what you should have done.”
“I didn’t—” I clenched my jaw. I couldn’t admit that I hadn’t meant to only graze Celia. Even if Greyson wouldn’t have judged me for it, I was judging myself. I should have never pulled the trigger. “He isn’t back yet. Do you think...?”
Greyson fell silent, and together we stared out the window, waiting. Every muscle in my body felt like a tightened coil, ready to spring at any moment. Celia had been so determined—and if anyone deserved to take out Daxton, itwas her.
At last a knot of Shields three deep pushed through the rioters, and my heart dropped. “They wouldn’t be protecting her like that,” I whispered, hope draining out of me. Greyson squeezed my hands.