“Guv,” Curry yelled. “Stop, for the love of God.” Ian sighted, squeezed the trigger. His arm bucked, and he straightened it, shooting again. Heavy hands grabbed his shoulder. Hart’s voice, roaring in rage. Ian shook him off and kept firing. Fire, hand over pistol, grab second pistol, aim, fire. “Ian.” Beth’s warm tone floated to him, and her cool hand rested on his. The world came rushing back. It was dimmer now, twilight having taken the place of bright afternoon. The undergardener sobbed at his side, dropping the empty pistol and pressing his hands to his face. Ian’s arms ached. He slowly
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