The flashlight beam hit my eyes, blinding me instantly, and I shielded my face with my forearm.

“Don’t move,” Ethan warned.

His voice was wet and breathless.

As my eyes adjusted to the glare, I saw the metallic glint in his right hand.

He was holding a small, black revolver, his knuckles white around the grip.

His clothes were soaked from the rain, clinging to his thin frame.

His hair was plastered to his forehead, and his eyes were wide and bloodshot.

“Where is she?” Ethan demanded, waving the gun between Daniel and me.

“Put the gun down, Ethan,” Daniel said, keeping his voice low and steady.

“Shut up,” Ethan snapped, his chest heaving as he gasped for air. “You don’t know anything about this.”

“I know you’re in over your head,” Daniel replied, taking a half-step forward.

Ethan jerked the gun toward Daniel’s chest. “I said, shut up!”

“Ethan, please,” I said, my voice trembling despite my efforts to keep it steady. “What are you doing?”

“What am I doing?” he echoed, letting out a harsh, wet laugh that sounded like a sob. “I’m saving my life.”