Worth Dying for (A Dying for a Living Novel Book 5) by Kory M. Shrum

man?”
    The transformation is shocking, but not unexpected. I’ve seen Gideon act before. He’s quite the chameleon which is probably why he’s still alive.
    The train car pulls away taking most of the commuters with it. Gideon and I are overlooked by the others rushing up the stairs toward the exit, briefcases swinging at their sides, patent leather shoes unscuffed. A woman with long beautiful legs marches past us wearing leopard print heels.
    I tug on Gideon’s arm. “Let’s go shopping.”
    “Now?” Gideon’s face pinches.
    One of the suits snorts.
    “Do you think we can find them in Midtown?” Fresh air swoops down from the street above, blowing the hair back off my face.
    “Not today,” the suit clutching Gideon says. “You’re coming with us.”
    This gets my attention. “No.”
    “This isn’t a negotiation,” the man says.
    “Okay.” I twitch my left hand and Gideon’s elbow is yanked free. Then I shove both of my hands out in front of me like a push. The three men sail back away from us. They fall into the chasm between the parallel platforms. Someone’s skull connects with the tracks in a sickening crack . Another wails as if he’s busted several bones on the rails. I hope so.
    Gideon balks at me.
    “What?” I throw up my hands. “They said it wasn’t a negotiation!”
    “Excellent acting,” Gideon says, relief washing over his features. “When confronted with authorities like that, feigning indifference and boredom is an excellent approach.”
    “I wasn’t acting. I want to go shopping.”
    “Of course you do,” he says with a disappointed sigh. “You’re easily distracted today.”
    The insult stings. “And you’re disappointing! I thought you were going to pull something exciting out of your pocket.”
    He opens his palm to reveal a lock pick, presumably for the cuffs we would’ve worn had I not taken care of business. “You were going to let them take you?”
    Gideon places a hand on his hip. “You used to love my ideas. Is our relationship getting stale?”
    “Ask me again…after you buy me something pretty.”
    “You know it isn’t very feminist, allowing a man to buy you everything.”
    “I want to walk into the store, murder all the associates and simply take what I want. But since you disapprove of that, you can buy them. It’s a perfect compromise and very feminist—men and women working together as equals to achieve a goal.”
    “I don’t think—” he begins, but stops at the sound of heels pounding the steps. Police descend the stairs, their badges catching the winter light. Their walkie-talkies buzz on their shoulders. I throw my hands up again and shove the air away from me. The officers fall back, toppling like a wall. Several cry out as their elbows and tailbones connect with the steps.
    “Stop that!” Gideon grabs my hands, cupping them together. Without letting go of me, he looks around the subway tunnel before catching sight of a promising door beside a turnstile exit at the end. He yanks me forward. “Run.”

Chapter 8
    Jesse
    G abriel. His black wings are draped over each shoulder like a fashion statement, looking as proud and petulant as any runway model. His green feline eyes regard me with a certain irritation. If he was a cat, I’m certain his ears would be laid back, ever so slightly.
    “Oh god, he has us again.” I push myself up on my elbows and notice that the ache in my chest is gone. “Caldwell took Maisie. Killed Ally. I fucking died and—”
    “You did not die.” Gabriel uncrosses his ankles and crosses the room. “You passed out while your heart healed.”
    I take a minute to process this. I didn’t die? I was shot in the heart at least once, but I didn’t die? Wow. Jason’s healing powers are more awesome than I thought. No, not Jason’s powers. Jason’s gift. The power I took that allows me to heal any wound instantly. Unless of course that wound is fatal. Apparently, I can’t heal a wounded heart in a