“I can’t,” James whispered. “Moretti, look at her. We can’t do this.”

“Get her out, you coward,” Moretti screamed, his attention split between the fog and James. “Or I will kill you both right here.”

I saw my chance.

James was standing only two feet away from me, his mind completely broken by fear and guilt.

His gun was pointing at the wet wood planks of the pier.

I lunged forward, grabbing his wrist with both of my hands.

James gasped, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Sophia, stop,” he cried out.

I twisted his wrist outward, using all my weight to force his arm down.

The metal of the gun was cold and slick against my palms.

James did not have the strength to fight back.

His fingers loosened, and the silver pistol slipped from his grip.

I caught it before it hit the ground, my finger finding the trigger.

I stepped back, pointing the weapon directly at James’s chest.

“Stay back,” I screamed.

Moretti heard the commotion and turned his weapon toward me.

But the fog behind him suddenly parted.