"Harry!"
I broke the neck of the gunman in less than a second and yanked my little brother up from the pavement, my heart pounding. It was fatal. I knew it was fatal, dead center in the chest-
Harry groaned. Then coughed, and blinked. "Well, that hurt,"
"What?" I asked stupidly.
He gripped my arm. "I'm okay, Thomas."
He rubbed his chest, picked something off his coat and held it out to me.
It was the bullet. Smashed flat.
I stared at it, then at him.
Then I started laughing.
I was never complaining about that stupid coat ever again.