“Repeat? Say again?”
“—inside the room, Hawk. It’s coming frominside.”
Jagger gives a tight nod, taking up position beside the frame. “On your go.”
My pulse is thundering. My vision tunnels to the blinking light on the keypad. Every breath feels like glass in my chest. Somewhere behind the steel, there’s either salvation or the end of the line.
“Manual breach?” I order. Jagger sets the charge while I brace against the opposite wall, rifle raised. My ears ring from the blood pounding in them. My world shrinks down to this door. This moment.
The charge clicks into place. Jagger meets my eyes. “Three seconds.”
I nod once.
The countdown begins.
Three.
My heart feels like it’s going to explode as my finger hovers against my trigger.
Two.
The thought of being too late causes my heart to momentarily seize. My stomach twists.
One.
The explosion rips through the corridor, deafening in the confined space. Smoke billows out, thick and choking.
“Move!” I shout, pushing forward through the haze, weapon sweeping through the darkness.
I wake to shouting. Not in the distance, but close enough that the hairs at the nape of my neck stand on end. The door behind me blows open—literally—and the metal screams as it’s torn off its hinges. Lights and smoke fill the tiny room as the deafening sound reverberates off the concrete walls.
Through the haze, I barely make out two silhouettes storming into the room. I close my eyes and shake my head, thinking I’m hallucinating. “Reese,” Chris calls out through the dark, and I’m certain my head injury might be more than a concussion.
“Clear,” a deep voice shouts from immediately behind me, and I snap my eyes open. I crane my neck, trying to look behind me.
“Chris?” I rasp, but it’s barely a sound as it leaves my mouth.
He steps through the dissipating smoke and drops to his knees before me. “Oh, baby…” he exhales, and the anguish inhis tone nearly breaks me. His eyes grow more pained with every second that they roam over my face.
“Oh God… Chris.” I suck in a sob, realizing that he’s not a hallucination.
“Shhhh.” He tenderly cups my cheek, the pad of his thumb trembling as he touches me like I might break. His eyes are glassy, and the side of his face is a mottled mess of berry-colored bruises.
“Target secured,” Jagger radios behind me.
The zip ties behind my hand pop when Jagger slices through them with a sharp blade. Blood rushes back to my hands painfully, and I wince as I flex my fingers. Freed from my bindings, I collapse against him and cry into his neck. All the fear that has been holding me together pours from me uncontrollably.
“You’re okay, baby. Daddy’s here.” He tightens his hold around me, and I hug him back as we both rise shakily to our feet. He groans softly, his whole body shuddering with the effort of holding me. I jerk back in alarm.
“Chris?” I carefully run my hand along his side.
“It’s nothing,” he grits, forcing a ghost of a smile even as pain flares behind his eyes. “I’d take a lot worse to feel you in my arms again.”
Gunfire cracks like fireworks in the distance.
“We gotta move,” Jagger insists, barking the order while listening to his earpiece. “Mattis said the cavalry is coming.”
“Let’s get you the hell out of here,” Chris murmurs, scooping an arm under my knees before I can protest. Iyelp, gripping his vest. He hisses through clenched teeth, trying to lift me anyway, and his knees nearly buckle.
