I quickly shrug out of Zeath’s hold, and my brain wills to say something but my shuddering lips wouldn’t let the words out.

However, even my brain retrieves the words when Chelsea raises a shotgun to Zeath’s direction as a triumphant smirk plays on her face. What the fuck is she doing?

“C— Cross, I…” I try to say, but then I realize I can’t breathe anymore. My inhale of air seem to be hitching, my chest rising even as Zeath rubs my back.

Cross has a gun as well. Between he and ...