Isabella's POV
As the bullet tore past me, brushing my arm and shocking my body, it was only a whisper in the air. But the awareness stopped me—not the suffering itself. My preconceptions about Enzo, about us, about everything were about to be broken into a thousand pieces.
"Get up!" Enzo's words cut sharply and angrily among the tumult. As the sound of additional bullets erupted, his fingers grabbed my wrist, dragging me to my feet and I stumbled behind him. But my head kept fixated on something else—the glance in his eyes immediately before the gun went off.
The pause.
"Why did you slow down, Enzo?" Whispering, I could hardly talk above the deafening boom in my ears. "You were supposed to guard me. You spoke as promised.
