The air fills with sparks and dust. The gate lies mangled in the dirt, a carcass of bent metal and the road ahead yawns open.
We surge forward, guns raised, adrenaline flooding like fire through veins. The night explodes with noise—alarms, boots pounding earth, my pulse roaring in my ears.
We tear through the open yard, boots hammering the gravel, breath coming in short savage bursts. The alarms wail louder, lights flooding the grounds like daylight. From the shadows, more of Moore’s men surge forward. Gunfire cracks through the night, hot metal whistling past.
Reyes drops with a scream, clutching his side. Mason grabs his collar, drags him behind a stone planter, returning fire with a roar. My vision tunnels red. Every second wasted is a second Summer is in there, with them.
We push harder, bullets shredding air. Bodies hit the dirt. Moore’s guards fall one by one, their rifles clattering against marble steps. The rest scatter inside like cockroaches.
“Door!” I shout.
Mason, Carter, and Grove converge, shouldering the thick mahogany double doors. They don’t budge. I slam my boot into it—wood splinters, but the frame holds. Again. Again. Nothing. It’s reinforced, iron hidden beneath the finish. The fuckers have thought of everything. This is a fortress.
“Windows!” Carter yells, already pivoting toward the tall panes lining the front.
We unleash hell. Gunfire hits the glass—but when the smoke clears, it’s still intact.
The bullets sink but don’t break through. My chest heaves with rage. Bulletproof. Every inch of this fucking place is indestructible.
“Vale had too many enemies to play stupid,” Mason snarls, spitting into the dirt. “This house is a goddamn bunker.”
We spread, circling fast. The perimeter is sprawling, but we don’t have time to slow down.
“Eyes up!” someone shouts.
I jerk my head back just in time to see the muzzle flash. A sniper on the roof. The shot tears through the night—and through Calder’s chest. He goes down without a sound, blood soaking the gravel.
“Fuck!” Carter fires upward, Grove already dropping to a knee, sighting in. One pull of the trigger, and the sniper folds, tumbling off the roof like dead weight.
But my heart isn’t slowing. If Moore had one on the roof, there’ll be more. This isn’t a skirmish—it’s a goddamn gauntlet.
We push around the rear of the mansion, shadows flickering against brick and hedges. My boots hit mud, my breath tearing out of me, lungs burning. And then I hear it.
A sound that doesn’t belong.
A mechanical hum, low at first. Growing. A whirr.
My blood turns to ice.
“No,” I breathe, my legs moving before my mind can catch up. “No, no, no?—”
I run. Faster than I ever have. My chest feels like it’s splitting open, heart clawing at my ribs, but I don’t stop. Because I know that sound.
Chapter 35
The Distance Between Us
Summer
The fork slips from my hand when the alarm splits through the house. A shrill, mechanical wail that rattles the crystal glasses on the table. My chest jerks tight—I don’t even know what it means—but Jackson does. His chair scrapes back violently, and before I can blink, his hand fists my arm, yanking me to my feet.
“Move,” he growls, dragging me so hard my shoulder burns.
I stumble, try to twist free, nails clawing against his grip, but he’s too strong. His body is a wall, his hands like iron. When I dig my heels into the polished marble floor, desperate to slow him, he doesn’t falter—he just bends, hooks an arm around my waist, and hauls me up onto his shoulder like a ragdoll.
The world flips upside down. My hair whips into my face, the blood rushing to my head as he carries me, his stride unshaken by my thrashing. I pound my fists against his back, claw at his shirt until threads come loose. I kick, I scream, but it only earns me a slap across the back of my thigh that stings so much I cry out.
“If you don’t cut it out,” he warns, his voice low and thick with menace, “I’ll give you to Donnie for the night. You think I’m scary, Princess? He’ll split you in half and leave you begging for death.”
