"You're out of your mind," Nick hissed, staring at me like I had two heads. "You're actually sitting there grinning?"
"I'm not grinning, I'm adapting," I whispered back, ducking lower as glass showered down on us again. "I told you to wait outside."
"You told me to stay in the hallway!" he snapped. "Then someone got their head blown off!"
Over by the couch, Rico was making a terrible, wet bubbling sound. His surviving guard was on his knees beside him, pressing a filthy rag against his chest, his hands shaking so hard he was barely holding it in place.
"He's dying! Rico's dying!" the guard yelled, panic making his voice high and thin.
Nick froze. His eyes shifted away from me, locking onto Rico's shuddering frame. The confusion in his expression vanished in a single breath.
The wide-eyed fear simply melted off his face, replaced by a strange, sharp stillness.
Before I could reach out to stop him, Nick uncurled from under the desk and moved.
