"Oh, god. No. P-please, no."
Pete struggled to catch a breath through the haze of his own adrenaline. He stood, immobilized, for a full three seconds, unable to control the whine that drowned out the hysteria in the world around him. It all came crashing down at once and he fell forward into a run.
Helena was crouched in a low, protective stance, aiming her Tesla towards the open street with her offhand. She had already removed her jacket and was pressing it with her other hand against Myka, who had slumped onto the street. Pete's gaze followed the red splatter sprayed against the now-glassless frame of the driver's window to the smear down the car door. Blood was pooling underneath his partner and running down the street towards the curb.
Myka had not, evidently, made any attempts to move; one leg was bent at an odd angle under the other, her left arm splayed uselessly beside her, right hand gripping Helena's sleeve, knuckles white.
"M…Myka?" Pete asked, kneeling down beside his partner and placing a hand under her blood-soaked curls in an effort to cushion her head. "Just hang on, Mykes."
Myka lost her grip on the sleeve and flailed, desperately seeking Helena, who relinquished the Tesla to bring Myka's trembling fingers to her chest. Pete caught sight of the entry wound as Helena resituated the soaked garment, saw the utterly ravaged shoulder, as if the skin itself had been flayed apart.
Hollow-points. Had to be. Son of a—
"Unh," Myka groaned as Helena pushed her jacket against the red that now seeped freely from her shoulder.
"Roll her over, if you can," Pete instructed, his voice now surprisingly calm, something for which he spent a full second being grateful. "I need to see if there's an exit wound."
"AGH!" Myka cried as Helena rolled her onto her side. "Please, don't…"
"I'm sorry, Myka, I'm so sorry." Pete only needed a second to verify the gaping hole in Myka's upper back. He muttered something Helena didn't quite catch as she gently rolled Myka onto her back again and resumed pressure with both hands.
Pete fumbled for his phone and dialed 911.
"Helena, take this." He wedged the phone between the woman's ear and shoulder. "Perimeter," was all he said and she nodded quickly in response, listening and waiting for an operator to pick up.
Already halfway across the street, Pete took one last glance at Myka and, adjusting the grip on his sidearm, set off towards the building opposite at a run.
"Hel…na," Myka gasped, attempting a placating tone and failing. Her blood-flecked chin trembled. She saw herself reflected in Helena's eyes, which were now mere inches from her own, and whimpered.