I glance at Daniel, frantic. Daniel looks back at me with the same expression, his face whiter than I’ve ever seen it. I whip my attention back to Ivan.
“What,” I ask, my voice shaking. “What’s – what’s happening.”
He just waves the gun at me, continuing to listen to something on his radio. Then, he murmurs “affirmative” into the handset and spins on the both of us. “Where the fuck is he?”
“What are you talking about?” Daniel growls, still holding his hands up by his head.
“Kent!” Ivan shouts, his face going red with anger now. “Kent Lippert! Where the FUCK is he in this house!?”
My jaw drops in shock and a second later relief floods through me, my knees going literally weak for the second time today as I lean back against the wall. If –
If they haven’t found him yet –
He’s probably not dead –
“We don’t know, Ivan,” Daniel growls, keeping his eyes on him.
Ivan, losing his cool more than I’ve ever seen him before, lifts his gun and points it straight at Daniel’s face, and I go cold. Because – as much as I understand that this is a tense situation – I’m pretty sure cops aren’t supposed to use their guns to threaten guys who aren’t being arrested, and who are standing against the wall with their hands up.
“Fucking tell me now, Lippert!” Ivan yells. “Where the fuck is Kent!”
“Don’t hurt him!” I scream, my hands balled into anxious fists at my side. And I honestly don’t now who I’m talking about – Daniel, or Kent, or –
“You’re going to fucking tell me, Daniel,” Ivan shouts, striding over Jerome and coming close enough to point his gun directly in Daniel’s face, but not close enough for Daniel to grab it. “Or I swear to god, I’ll shoot you right now!”
I moan at the sight of Daniel at gunpoint, closing my eyes, my whole body threatening to give out under the stress of this moment -
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