A piercing, blood-curdling scream of pure terror tore from my throat as I buried my face into William's chest, bracing for the impact of the bullet.
BANG!
The deafening blast echoed through the narrow concrete corridor, but the phantom pain of a gunshot never came.
Instead, a harsh, agonized groan ripped from Julian's throat behind us.
I forced my eyes open, my heart hammering violently against my ribs. Julian had dropped his weapon, his hands clutching a bloody wound in his thigh where a bullet had perfectly incapacitated him.
A stern-faced federal agent stepped out from a hidden alcove just a few yards away, his firearm still drawn and smoking, having rounded the corner just in time to neutralize the threat.
"Down on the ground! Do it now!" The agent roared, as two more tactical officers swarmed the corner, pinning a cursing, bleeding Julian to the floor and slamming the heavy steel handcuffs onto his wrists.
William didn't look at his uncle.
He didn't care.
