Chapter 149 Enough Time

• Eleni
• I close my eyes on the floor in Dante’s arms and open them again somewhere warm and tan and lonely. Distantly, I can hear voices. My stomach aches.
• My stomach! I shoot up, yank up the “I Heart NYC” shirt covering my abdomen for some reason, and probe the skin there. I was shot. Someone—Fyodor, judging by how much nicer his suit was—shot me in the stomach, like he knew exactly who I was. But there’s no gaping bullet hole, not even a careful line of black stitches.