“Jesus Christ, what are you? A fucking giant?”

The cool end of the silencer pressed into Dagen’s temple, and for a split second, he almost laughed, realizing that without it, the man holding the gun wouldn’t have been able to reach high enough to place it there.

Ollie was standing about three feet in front of him, completely frozen, and staring at Dagen with wide, terrified eyes. Dagen held his gaze trying to soothe him through force of will alone. Don’t panic. Be ready.

“In the living room. On your knees.” The man pressed the gun a little harder against Dagen’s head and then pulled back to step behind him. It was what Dagen had been waiting for.

He spun, grabbing the man’s gun hand and shoving it toward the ceiling while his other hand seized the man’s throat in a crushing grip. A muffled shot sounded from the gun, sending plaster raining down on their heads, before Dagen gripped the man’s wrist as hard as he could and slammed the man back into the door they’d just walked through.

Behind him, he heard Ollie gasp, but Dagen just pounded the man into the door again. His head cracked against the hard surface, and Dagen only released him when the gun fell from his hand. Letting the limp body fall to the floor, Dagen reached for the discarded weapon, but a voice stopped him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Dagen spun to find Ollie with his back to him and looking toward the mouth of the hallway leading to the bedrooms. Niko was there, his back pressed to a man’s chest.

The man had an arm around his throat and a gun, just like the one that had been pointed at Dagen, shoved against his temple. The man wasn’t very tall. Dagen would guess five-nine and from what Dagen could see, he had dark hair and equally dark eyes.

Stepping up beside Ollie, he homed in on Niko’s terrified face and felt a fresh wave of acid burst in his chest at the trickle of blood he could see dripping down Niko’s chin from a split in his lip.

Beside him, Ollie shuddered out a breath before stepping forward. Dagen immediately reached to pull him back, but Ollie stepped to the side and looked back at the intruder.

“What do you want, Justin?”

Ollie was going to be sick. A million thoughts flashed through his head as he watched Niko’s wide eyes flit from him to Dagen and back again, but one was stuck on a loop.

I brought this here.

When Dagen had tried to stop him from moving toward Justin, he’d had to pull away. If Dagen touched him now, he’d crumble into a million pieces and he needed to find a way to get him and Niko out of this danger before that happened. Justin was sneering at him, and Ollie’s skin crawled. How did I ever let that man touch me?

“I want everything this little shit,” Justin wrenched back violently with the arm around Niko’s throat, causing him to choke and gasp, “stole from me!”

Dagen started to lunge forward, but Justin pulled the gun away from Niko to point it straight at his chest. He stopped with a growl, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles were white.

“You stop right there,” Justin barked. “And better yet, get on your knees. I’m getting a fucking crick in my neck looking up at you.”

When Dagen didn’t immediately drop, Justin’s eyes went cold before a sinister glint lit in their dark depths and he turned the gun on Ollie.

“Okay, okay,” Dagen said, lowering himself down, palms held up in front of his body.

“Found you a new sucker to bleed dry, huh?” Justin sneered at Ollie before turning his mocking gaze on Dagen. “Hope you’re getting some good miles out of his ass. It’s about the only thing he’s good for.”

Ollie took another hasty step forward, afraid of what Dagen might say or do. “What do you mean stole from you? If you want the stupid sketchbook—"

Justin started to laugh, an ugly, dark sound. “You always were soft in the head. I don’t give a shit about your sketchbook.”

“Then, what?”

The door behind Justin, that led down into the tattoo shop, opened and another man Dagen didn’t know stepped into the apartment.

“I found the backpack, boss,” he announced, holding up the bag Niko had had with him the night before in the gym. “There’s a safe down there as well. Could be worth cracking.”

Justin let go of Niko’s throat and shoved him forward before reaching for the bag. Ollie half caught the younger man, and they both ended up crouched on the floor, while Niko tried to get his breath back.

“Give me that.” Justin grabbed at the backpack. “Go check on Russ and see if Big Shit here killed him.”

The man that had come up the stairs lifted his gaze and seemed to really notice Dagen for the first time. With round eyes, he made a wide berth around where Dagen was still kneeling on the floor to do Justin’s bidding.

Dagen’s mind was whirling. If the man who’d retrieved the backpack had seen the safe, that meant he’d been in Vidar’s office. Vidar’s office had a silent alarm because it was where they stored the cash from the gym and shop. He needed to keep this standoff happening. Buy them some time. If it had only been Justin, he may have taken the opportunity of the man digging in the backpack to rush him, but now there was a gun on either side of them and he wouldn’t risk Ollie and Niko.

“He’s alive, boss, but still out,” the other man informed from behind them, but Justin didn’t seem to hear. With every passing second, he grew more frantic, tearing at the bag in his hands. Panic and rage written clearly on his face. “Where the fuck is it?” he screamed, throwing the bag on the ground and turning the gun back on Niko. Ollie pushed Niko behind him and rose to his feet, hands in front of him. Fear was a leaden brick in Dagen’s belly.

“Just tell us what it is… maybe we can help find it,” Ollie’s voice was calm. Reasonable. Justin backhanded him hard enough that Ollie hit the ground. Niko yelled and tried to catch him, leaving them both sprawled on the floor. Dagen saw red and was on his feet before he could think, only to halt when Justin grabbed Ollie by the hair and hauled him up to his knees, gun pressed to his temple.

“Not another step! I will fucking kill him!”

The barrel of a gun prodded at his back and he knew he had the other guy’s attention now too. He raised his hands again and moved his eyes to Ollie’s. As he did, the slightest movement caught his eye from the still-open door at the top of the tattoo shop stairs. Vidar was nearly one with the shadows in the stairwell, and with Justin’s back to him and Dagen blocking the other guy’s view, he had the perfect opportunity to get the jump on them. Dagen tried not to let the crippling relief show on his face as he let his eyes swing to Ollie’s and tried to send the same message that he’d sent before. Don’t panic. Be ready.

Niko was up on his knees now, pleading with Justin to please let Ollie and Dagen go. Justin’s face was turning a deep, splotchy red.

“Don’t lie to me! I know you took my fucking drugs! Where are they?” The hand he still had buried in Ollie’s hair gave a violent shake and Ollie winced.

“I… I don—” Niko gasped, between sobs.

Dagen glanced back at Vidar, who’d stepped closer to the door, and prepared to move. His brother’s eyes jerked to Justin, and Dagen gave the tiniest nod of his chin. Vidar would go for Justin while Dagen dispatched the one behind him. Subtly shifting his weight, Dagen got ready to spin. He couldn’t feel the gun pressing into his back anymore, and a glance out of the corner of his eye told him the man had lowered the gun somewhat and was watching Justin terrorize Ollie and Niko.

“I guess I’ll just have to make you talk,” Justin barked and started to move the gun from Ollie’s head to Niko’s torso.

For a split second, time seemed to stop, and he met Ollie’s eyes. Hard determination stared back at him before a brief flash of regret passed over Ollie’s face, and Dagen knew what he was going to do. Ollie lifted his fists from where they’d been clenched around the hand Justin still had buried in his hair and brought them down hard on Justin’s other forearm before he’d taken aim at Niko, causing the gun to discharge into the floor.

Justin staggered back a step. Dagen was already moving as he brought the gun back up.

This is it, Ollie thought. This is how I die.

The bullet hit the carpet and Justin released him. He saw the pure rage on Justin’s face, could almost feel it, burning like a brand—deep and scarring—and something Ollie would have to carry for life, however little was left of it. The gun came back up and Ollie lunged, throwing his body over Niko’s even as he heard the muffled pop of the gun going off again.

He squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the pain, but it didn’t come, and the scuffle around them seemed to grow in intensity before coming to an abrupt stop. The quiet was almost deafening, then hands were reaching for him and clasping his shoulders, pulling him up. Dagen’s beautiful hazel eyes filled his vision, and Ollie could have wept. With relief. With joy.

Dagen opened his mouth as if to speak, then stopped suddenly, his face turning ashen.

“Dagen?” Ollie grappled for his arms but couldn’t hold him when Dagen swayed on his feet. That’s when Ollie saw it, a dark red stain, spreading quickly so close to the rose tattoo Ollie loved.

In the next instant, Vidar was at Ollie’s side, helping to lower Dagen to the floor. Ollie didn’t even have the thought to question how or why Vidar was there, but his calm presence did much to stem the panic bubbling up in Ollie’s chest. Pressing both hands over the bullet wound high on Dagen’s chest, Vidar turned his eyes to Ollie.

“The police will be here any minute. Go down and meet them and call 911. Tell them we need an ambulance.” Vidar’s blue eyes shifted to Niko. “Get a towel from the kitchen.” Niko seemed frozen for a moment, but then scrambled up to do as Vidar ordered.

“Don’t make me leave him,” Ollie heard himself whisper. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Vidar’s hands, already painted red, and his muscles straining to keep his brother’s life from draining away.

“I’m not asking you to leave him. I’m asking you to help me save his life,” Vidar bit out.

Ollie’s hands were shaking so badly he nearly dropped his phone when he yanked it from his pocket. He somehow managed to dial the right numbers. Niko kneeled beside them, almost throwing the towels in his haste to get them to Vidar, who grabbed one and quickly replaced his bare hands with it.

Red crept up the bundle of fabric, and Ollie had to tear his eyes away. With one last look at Dagen’s pale face, he lurched to his feet just as sirens sounded in the distance.

He barely saw anything of the room as he turned for the door that led outside. Wrenching it open, cool spring air hit his face, and the operator said in his ear, “Nine one one, what’s your emergency?”

Everything was a blur of sound and color and pain. He vaguely recalled the ambulance, but his thoughts quickly became a jumble of sensation, all eclipsed by the white-hot ache in his shoulder. There were hands on him, rough and gentle, voices making demands, to stay or wake-up, and then finally a blessed darkness he had been happy to fall into.

“It’s called morphine, little brother.”

Sound snapped into focus and a moment later, that ache—though not as sharp as before—was back. He opened his eyes, seeking out the owner of the voice. The room was dim, and even in his groggy state, he knew it for what it was. The machines hooked to him on either side emitted low, white noise, and he could hear a beeping down the hall.

Magnus stood up and reached for a small cup with a straw sticking out of it, then held it to his lips. “Just a sip. Go slow.”

His mouth felt like a garbage can, and he was grateful for the cool liquid, but even that small movement of his head caused another ripple of pain to shoot down his torso. He let his head fall back against the pillow with a wince.

“You’re in the hospital. Obviously. The critical care unit. Although now that you’re awake, they’ll probably move you.” Magnus was whispering and Dagen wondered why until he gingerly glanced around the room.

His mom was wrapped in a blanket in one of those stiff-backed looking recliners, and over on a tiny two-seater couch, Harbor and Vidar were sprawled out half on top of each other like when they were kids. When his eyes didn’t land on anyone else, panic welled up in him, and he jerked his eyes back to Magnus.

“Ollie?” he rasped.

“Easy, easy. He’s fine and here. In the waiting room down the hall with Niko and Kayla and Rory and half the damn gym, I think.”

Dagen let out a breath. “Thank god.”

“No, thank you.” Vidar’s face appeared beside Magnus’s. “The bullet you took was meant for Niko, and he’d probably be dead with Ollie right behind him.”

Dagen couldn’t even think about that. “Can I see him?” He looked between his brothers and Magnus nodded.

“I’ll go get him and the nurse, okay?”

Dagen felt Magnus squeeze his hand, then he stepped out of the room. Turning his eyes back to Vidar, Dagen asked, “How bad is it?”

Vidar sighed and took the chair Magnus had just left. “Fractured your collarbone. Tore a bunch of muscle up. Way too close to your heart for comfort, brother.” Vidar’s normally stoic mask slipped. “Thought you were going to die in the ambulance. You do that to me again and I’m going to kick your ass.”

The corner of Dagen’s mouth quirked up before another sobering thought occurred to him. “The competition—"

“You don’t need to be worrying about that. Especially not now.”

“But Vi, I need—"

“Enough.” Vidar shook his head. “You don’t need to do anything but get well. I won’t sugarcoat it; your shoulder may be fucked. It’s going to be slow healing and a lot of physical therapy. And I want you to pay attention when I say this, Dagen.”

There was a burn building behind Dagen’s eyes, but he met his brother’s blue ones.

“Competition or no competition, you have a place at the gym. It’s where you belong. Truth is, I couldn’t do it without you. So, put it from your head.” Vidar gripped his hand where it lay by his side.

Dagen gave a small nod, then winced at the movement. Not a moment later a nurse came in, asking questions and checking his vitals. Dagen endured it all, even as his eyelids grew heavy after one of his machines made a hissing sound and a comforting warmth spread through his veins. A shadow fell across his bed right before chocolate eyes were staring into his as Ollie bent over him.

“Ollie.” It came out barely a whisper, whatever medicine he’d just received making his tongue thick and hard to move.

“I’m here. Just rest, okay?”

“Okay.” He started to let himself drift but fought to stay awake a moment longer. “Ollie!”

Warm hands cupped his face. “Do you need something?”

“Stay. Please, stay.” Something wet dripped onto his face and he struggled to open his eyes. He was so warm.

“I’m not going anywhere. Promise.”

The blackness that had held him earlier suddenly felt like Ollie’s lips on his and he was happy to sink into it.