Caspian’s breath was heavy, the cool night air doing little to calm the storm raging within him.

His hand tightened around the grip of his gun, the cold steel resting against his palm as he stared down at the man lying on the dusty floor of the abandoned warehouse.

The man groaned in pain, his hands pressed against the gash on his side where Caspian had shot him earlier.

Blood seeped between his fingers, staining the ground beneath him in deep crimson. Yet still, he refused to speak.

Caspian’s patience had worn thin. Julia's face flashed in his mind, her fearful eyes and trembling voice replaying over and over again....