Chapter 8 - When the Monster Bleeds
The sound of Eli’s voice broke Tyler’s final shred of sanity. Realizing he had zero leverage and zero mercy left, Tyler lunged forward, not toward Nolan, but toward the discarded cutting torch on the floor, snatching a hidden snub-nosed revolver from his waistband.
""If I'm going down, I'm taking the boss with me!"" Tyler screamed.
Crack.
The shot deafened the enclosed cellar.
Nolan moved with supernatural speed, throwing his entire body across mine, shielding me as the bullet struck. I heard the sickening impact of lead tearing into flesh, felt the violent jolt through Nolan’s frame as he took the bullet directly in his right shoulder.
He didn't make a sound. He didn't even grunt.
With his left hand, Nolan fired once. Tyler’s eyes went wide with shock as the round punched through his center mass. Tyler stumbled backward, his gun slipping from his fingers, before slumping down against the ruined vault door, unmoving.
""Nolan!"" I screamed, dropping my weapon and catching him as he staggered against the wall.
Dark, arterial crimson was already soaking through his white shirt, spreading across the midnight wool of his jacket. His skin had gone ghostly pale, but his dark eyes remained locked onto mine, completely steady.
""Did... did the bullet touch you?"" he coughed, a thin line of blood touching his lip.
""I'm fine! You idiot, you stepped in front of me!"" Tears streamed down my face as I ripped off the hem of my velvet gown, pressing the thick fabric hard against the wound in his shoulder. ""Marco! Get down here! He’s hit!""
The heavy bolts of the panic room clunked open. Marco emerged, his tactical vest splattered with dust, holding Eli securely in his left arm. The moment Eli saw me, he wriggled free, running across the stone floor and throwing his arms around my waist.
""Aunt Nora! The big man kept me safe! We built a fort!""
""I know, baby, I know,"" I sobbed, keeping one hand clamped over Nolan’s bleeding shoulder while wrapping my other arm tightly around Eli’s shaking shoulders.
Nolan slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, his breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. Eli turned, seeing the blood, his eyes wide with concern. The little boy stepped forward, completely unafraid of the mobster, and pulled a folded paper crane from his pocket—the one he had carried since the night in the alley.
Eli pressed the paper crane into Nolan’s uninjured left hand.
""This is for good luck,"" Eli whispered solemnly. ""My mom said cranes fix broken things.""
Nolan Voss, the terror of the eastern seaboard, looked down at the tiny, blood-smeared paper crane in his hand. His fingers closed gently around it, protecting the fragile paper as if it were the most valuable asset he had ever acquired.
A faint, breathless smile touched his lips as he looked up at me. ""The boy has... good taste in origami.""
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""Don't you dare die on us, Nolan,"" I choked out, pressing harder against his chest. ""You promised me five million dollars and a wedding. You don't get to back out of a signed contract.""
""A Voss... always pays his debts,"" he whispered, his eyes fluttering shut as the sirens finally began to wail in the distance, echoing across the stormy Atlantic coast.
