The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 243

"Bang."

The second shot rang out. Cassandra's bullet tore into his back, punching a clean exit wound straight through his chest.

Arlo pitched forward like a crumbling wall, slamming face-first onto the unforgiving ice.

His fingers were still outstretched, straining toward the gun that lay less than three feet away...

But he would never reach it.

He lay motionless on the ice, dark crimson pooling beneath him, slowly mingling with the blood Diego had spilled...

"J..." he breathed softly, a fragile, hissing sound escaping his lips like a broken bellows. And then, he went completely still.

Wyatt pushed himself up from the ice, walked over to Arlo, and crouched down, checking his carotid artery.

Nothing. He was gone.

Cassandra jogged over, her weapon still raised. Spotting the streak of crimson dripping from Wyatt's ear, her face tightened in alarm.

"Wyatt, are you okay?!"

Wyatt casually wiped his ear, smearing away the blood.

"I'm fine, just a scratch."

Cassandra let out a heavy sigh of relief.

Working together, they rolled Arlo's body over. Cassandra expertly rifled through his pockets and pulled out a photograph. It was a little girl, maybe six or seven years old, her hair tied into twin braids, beaming in the snow while wearing a bright pink winter coat.

Cassandra flipped the photo over. Written on the back was a single name: Janie. The date of the photo was jotted down in the bottom right corner.

"Is this his daughter?" Cassandra asked.

Wyatt remained silent. He remembered the dying man's final, broken gasp. The soft 'J' sound.

The word he was trying to say wasn't 'Save me.'

It was his daughter's name.

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