Elena's POV

I do not feel brave.

I feel cold.

Not the kind of cold that comes from air or water or night. This is deeper. It sits under my skin and presses against my bones like something has crawled inside me and made itself at home.

Henry’s arm is locked around my chest. Too tight. Crushing. His forearm digs into my collarbone and his breath is right by my ear, hot and uneven, like he is barely holding himself together.

The gun is not pressed gently.

It is hard. Real. Heavy.

Right against ...