“I’m giving up the business,” he said. “Not you.”

Before I could answer, a man lunged from the thick brush to our right.

He was wearing a dark tactical jacket and a ski mask.

He tackled Adrian, sending them both crashing down the icy slope of the ravine.

I screamed, my hands flying to my mouth.

They rolled into a deep drift, kicking up a cloud of white snow.

I could hear the dull thud of fists and the sound of heavy breathing.

The man had Adrian pinned, his hands wrapped around Adrian’s throat.

Adrian’s gun had slipped from his hand and lay in the snow a few feet away, its black barrel glinting in the moonlight.

I scrambled down the slope, my boots sliding on the ice.

I fell to my knees, reaching for the cold steel of the weapon.

My fingers closed around the grip.

The man on top of Adrian saw me.

He let go of Adrian’s neck and reached for his own holster.

I didn’t hesitate.

I raised the gun with both hands and pulled the trigger.

The loud report shook my entire body.