Aylin lowered her weapon, her hands shaking, and dropped to her knees beside Zayden.
"Zayden. Zayden, can you hear me?"
Azalea was limping over, holding her shoulder, but she was still moving.
She crouched down next to her brother and pulled off his mask. Zayden looked pale, his lips had a blue tint, and his eyes were barely open.
But he was still breathing.
Just barely.
Azalea felt for a pulse on his neck.
"It's there," she said. "Weak, but it's there."
She took a quick look at the chest wound. The vest had stopped some of the impact, but not enough. The bullet had gone in, not in the center, but a bit to the left. It might've missed the heart. Or it might not have. Azalea couldn't be sure.
She got her phone out and called for emergency services. "This is Dr. Azalea Virelli. I need an ambulance at the Silk Flame Auction Hall. Gunshot wound to the chest. Male, late twenties, in critical condition. NOW!"
She hung up and glanced at Aylin.
