Mostly.
There was broken glass from the window over the sink and three now empty tear gas canisters on the counter. The tear gas itself had mostly dissipated, but there was still the lingering stench of it.
Eli shifted his attention and spotted something else he hadn’t wanted to see. Blood smeared across the tile floor near the base of the refrigerator. Not a lot. Just enough to catch the light and make his heart start pounding harder.
He swept the room, then motioned toward the hallway leading deeper into the house. There was more blood here, this time streaked as if someone had tried to crawl. Eli rounded the corner and found a man sprawled on the floor near the laundry room, his face pale, one arm bent awkwardly beneath him.
He crouched fast, fingers to the man’s neck.
Pulse.
Faint, but there.
“He’s Crossfire Ops?” Delaney whispered frombehind him.
Eli nodded, already recognizing the man. “Ty Merrick. One of ours.”
The last time Eli had seen him, Ty had been grinning and talking trash during a training drill. Now he was unconscious, blood pooling under his shoulder where a round had torn through the fabric of his vest.
“No sign of the second guard?” Eli whispered to Delaney.
She shook her head. “Not yet.”
Delaney pulled her phone and stepped into the hallway, calling in for medical. Her voice was clipped and efficient as she gave coordinates and a basic rundown of Ty’s condition. Eli kept pressure on the wound, watching for any signs of consciousness. Ty didn’t stir.
When Delaney finished her call, her face was grim. Her expression was far from hopeful. “Ambulance is rolling. Ten, maybe twelve minutes.”
Eli stood and nodded once. “We clear the rest.” There wasn’t anything else they could do for Ty, but they might be able to locate Olivia.
They moved fast, room by room. A den, small office, spare bedroom—empty. Nothing but the creeping sense that they were too late.
Still on the hunt for the girl, they hit the last room at the end of the hall. The door was partially open, and Eli pushed in first.
The bedroom was a mess. Sheets ripped offthe bed. A lamp on the floor. A chair knocked over. Something had gone down here, and it hadn’t been quiet.
On the dresser, a small toiletry bag sat open, half its contents spilled—lip balm, a compact, a bottle of prescription anxiety meds withOlivia Camdenprinted across the label. A duffel bag lay near the closet, unzipped, with clothes still folded inside. One shoe had been kicked under the bed. A sweater was balled in the corner, as if it had been yanked during a struggle.
Yeah, this had been her room.
Delaney stepped in behind him and crouched near the edge of the bed. “Look,” she said, her voice hardly louder than a whisper.
A phone lay face down on the hardwood floor. She picked it up and turned it over. The screen lit up. One unsent message filled the text box.
He found me.
He didn’t need to ask who “he” was. Whoever Olivia had been afraid of, whoever she was running from, had gotten here first.
And now she was gone.
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Chapter Three
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With the adrenaline slamming through her, Delaney followed Eli back through the hall, boots silent on the hardwood as they returned to where Ty lay unconscious. His breathing was shallow but steady, and the blood had slowed under the pressure bandage Eli had wrapped before they cleared the rest of the house.
She crouched beside Ty, checking his pulse again just to keep her hands busy, just to ground herself. Her mind kept flashing to the text message still glowing in the bedroom.
