“Z is shoot first and ask questions later.” I’m already moving. My coat is on the stool by the door; I yank it down and shove my arms in. The Glock is at the small of my back where it has been since I left the hospital yesterday, and when I check the magazine, I see that it’s full and ready. The sonogram, folded along its old creases, sits against my ribs. “I’m getting in a car right now and driving to the detention center. Kir, tell Yasha to do whatever the f**k he needs to do to give me a way in.”
“Hold up one sec,” she protests. “Let’s just think this through and—”
“Did you not f*****g hear him?” I roar, whirling around on her. “DeMaris is going for her! We don’t have time to think anymore, goddammit! I will not stand by while one more man touches a woman who’s been through the s**t
