Ashton kept moving forward. He kept shooting Nicolai. His jaw was clenching hard. His shoulders rigid. His back as straight as could be, and he kept shooting. He emptied his entire clip into Nicolai Worthing’s body. No one said a word until his clip ran out. Even then, he kept trying to shoot him. “Ashton.” Trace stepped for him, but Ashton whirled, only seeing me.
