Aria's POV
By the third morning my shoulder had settled from sharp agony to a deep, insistent ache that was manageable with medication and bad with movement. The doctor was satisfied. Barnes came by briefly to go over what had happened in the restaurant, the shot, the angle, the fragment, and to tell me that Marcus had died on impact from the sniper's shot, and that his network, thin and mercenary without him, was already unraveling.
"It's over," Barnes said, for what I suspected was the third or fourth time, as though repetition would help it.
Then he was quiet for a moment. "Ms. Monroe." He didn't quite meet my eyes, which from Barnes, a man I had never once seen uncomfortable meant something. "The ricochet, that shouldn't have happened. I had people in position, I had the angle accounted for, and you still ended up" He stopped then cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, you trusted us with your safety and we weren't careful enough."
