"You're a fool," she hissed.
John frowned. "Saving you was foolish? Elizabeth, that doesn't make any sense."
"You could have been killed."
"iYou/i could have been killed," he countered.
She didn't have anything to say to that. Sniffing, forcing her tears back at gunpoint, she focused on the wound in front of her instead. The wound caused by a bullet that had been meant for her heart. A bullet that had grazed John's arm as he threw himself in front of her, taking them both to the ground.
"You're a fool," she repeated, her voice shaky and devoid of heat.
John nodded and leaned his forehead against hers.
"I know," he whispered.