Luke dragged Anise Snow to the side of the car.
Port hopped out of the passenger's side, drew his handgun, and watched guardedly, "How is she?"
Luke pulled back Anise Snow's shirt to reveal a black bulletproof vest, patted her cheeks, "How do you feel?"
"My chest hurts... It's a bit hard to breathe," Anise Snow's face showed a look of terror, she said weakly.
"Lie still."
Luke took out his phone and dialed 911 for backup and an ambulance.
Port hid behind the car, looking around, "No shots were heard; it must be a long-range sniper. Can't find any trace of the shooter."
It was a good thing it was a long-range sniper; if it had been a close-range shooting, even if Anise Snow had been wearing a bulletproof vest, she might still have been killed—the power of large-caliber bullets is much greater than that of normal handguns.
Luke said, "It's definitely that bastard trying to silence her for good, we need to figure out his location."
Port asked, "Got any good ideas?"
