As he rolled back to face the Russian, his stomach turned into one big cramp, then suddenly exploded with pain that reached all the way inside, radiating down to his legs and up to his neck. But Gray’s grip on the gun didn’t falter despite the sharp pain in his abdomen, and he pulled the trigger, hitting the fucker’s jaw.
The force of the projectile sent The Russian back, but he was still moving, so Gray shot him once more, straight through the back of the head.
The bar erupted with noise. Figures chaotically rushed around in the neon lights—some running for cover, others tightening the circle around Gray. Like a pack of vultures, they were wary of the weapon in his hand and instead waited until he’d inevitably make a fatal mistake. Gray’s heart thudded like a war drum, urging him to fight through the pain, get to his feet, and unleash all his skills on this place, but what would have happened to Shadow’s body if Gray chose to do the logical thing and openly fight?
The throbbing pain in his stomach was a dull presence, taking root in his flesh yet staying manageable despite his hands starting to shake and his vision blurring. The lights seemed to dim, transforming all the male figures around him into infernal creatures, but it was a black mass speeding his way that made his adrenaline-soaked brain focus. He took a deep breath, prepared to help Shadow up once he entered his body, but the flesh and bones remained lifeless.
The puddle of shiny black liquid bloated, and then shot up, forming the tall male figure that was the manifestation of Shadow’s soul. Gray’s chest compressed as he looked into twin red dots in the black face.
“You’re hurt!” Shadow said in a voice that was both rough and high-pitched. “I told you, it was—”
Someone shot, but the bullet ricocheted off Shadow’s back, leaving him unharmed.
“The fuck is that thing?!”
Shadow turned with a low growl, obscuring Gray’s vision with his massive form. He was safe at last.
Gray smiled and touched the wound, curling his fingers around the grip of the Russian’s knife, which was still stuck in his flesh. The wound was numb now, his brain infused with the need to survive this, but the effect would be gone within a couple of minutes. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. If the knife had cut a vital artery—he could die if he removed it, but if he left the blade in, any movement could prove fatal.
What the fuck was he to do?
“Shadow… get inside,” Gray hissed, still spread on top of the motionless body.
“Not until I find out who hurt you and tear them into pieces!” Shadow roared in the odd, rusty voice he had in this form.
From his position on the floor Gray couldn’t even see how many more men wanted them dead. He pointed to the Russian whose brain fluids now soaked into the carpet. “It’s done!”
Shadow froze, but when an onslaught of bullets erupted all at once from an automatic weapon, his body liquified and splashed onto Gray as if had when the clubhouse had been under attack.
Gray’s eyes briefly fluttered shut. The pleasant heat that was exactly as if his own body temperature surrounded him like a cocoon and pulled him over the floor while bullets ricocheted off the black armor around Gray’s skin. He took a deep breath and studied their surroundings after a sudden spasm of pain twisted in his stomach. Through the gel-like surface of Shadow, Gray saw the chairs move around him while sparks erupted when projectiles flattened against him, to no effect. He couldn’t feel a thing while Shadow was protecting him this way.
“You’re bleeding. You’re bleeding,” Shadow repeated over and over in a panicked whisper. His form was a soundproof blanket that kept their conversations secret while muting everything beyond its bounds.
But as seconds passed and Gray realized Shadow’s body was no longer with him, he frantically looked back to see it kicked over by a large man in an ill-fitting suit. Wrath boiled in his veins, and he tried to grab one of the chairs, but Shadow wouldn’t let go and pulled him farther toward the exit.
“Shadow, stop. Your body is still there!”
“We’re going! You need help,” Shadow growled and pulled like a rabid dog. “I’ll find another body,” he said, even though it was completely irrational and they both knew it. Despite Gray’s attempts to stop Shadow, he was still dragged past a dustbin, which fell over, spilling fast food packaging and bottles, one of which broke in two when it hit Gray’s chin. It was like watching the world from the inside of a tumbling washing machine.
The man holding the automatic weapon kicked Shadow’s human body again. “What the fuck? He’s dead!”