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Prologue

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I saw it happen in slow motion. The trigger pulled back; the bullet left the chamber and flew through the air. It pierced my shirt first, then my skin, and finally the muscle of my abdomen, where it lodged. The force sucked the wind right out of me, and I immediately reached for the wound, feeling the warmth of my blood seeping through the fabric.

Staggering backward, I used every ounce of strength I had to lift the gun and fire off two shots in return. The echoing booms filled the air, but I fell to the ground before I could see what my bullets hit. If anything at all.

Everything became still and quiet around me as I lay in a growing pool of my blood. I fumbled with the hem of my shirt, pulling it up and trying to look at the wound. It hurt too much to crunch my abs, so instead I felt for it with my fingers. I winced at the sting, but pressed my hands firmly against it in hopes it would slow the bleeding.

I knew I was losing a lot of blood, and it was happening too fast. No one knew where I was. No one knew how to find me, and by the time they figured it out, I would be dead.

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