Voices echo inside. Orders being barked while boots shuffle across the concrete. They’re not rushing.
Frost doesn’t think he has to.
I move fast and silent, gun up, every instinct honed razor sharp. Camille stands near the base of the stairs, her back straight, her chin lifted like she’s already bracing for impact. Two men flank her.
Frost is just ahead, one hand on the rail, saying something to the pilot who stands in the open door.
Camille turns her head.
Our eyes lock across the cavernous space.
Relief, terror, and hope collide in her face all at once. She mouths my name like a lifeline.
I’m coming, princess.
The guard beside her shifts.
I duck behind a cargo carrier and slip to the other side, sticking to the shadows and counting bodies as I go. Five, plus Aiden, Camille, and the pilot. There may be another on board. I can’t discount that possibility.
I move swiftly, using all the training I have to sneak up behind three of the men and silently take them out.
Aiden climbs the remaining steps to the plane hatch, the men pushing Camille to follow.
I scan the area for backup.
Nothing moves in the shadows.
Fuck. Looks like I’m doing this alone.
I send up a silent prayer to anyone who’s listening that it doesn’t end like Afghanistan. That day, I followed orders, and everyone I was protecting died because of it.
Today, I followed my gut and found myself in the same goddamn spot.
I step out of the shadows.
“You’re done, Frost.” My weapon is trained on him. Steady.
Aiden turns. His chin lifts a notch as he stares me down.
I could end this now.
Camille would never have to fear him coming back for her. She wouldn’t have to go through a messy trial and endless hours of retelling the story in detail while crafty lawyers look for holes to get their client exonerated. I could spare her that pain.
My finger strokes lightly over the trigger.
The air around us drops another degree.
“You’re persistent. But then she brings out that trait in simple men like us, doesn’t she?” He grabs Camille’s arm and yanks her in front of him. “So lovely. Those icy eyes matching her heart.”
She swallows, eyes wide. Trusting.
“Maybe she’s only cold to you, Frost.” I let the suggestion linger in the air as I close the distance, maintaining an eye on the two remaining thugs.
A fissure cracks in his calm facade. He grips Camille’s chin and turns her head. “Did you spread your thighs for him?” he snarls.
“N-no,” she whispers. “I swear.”
The guard on Camille’s left goes for his gun. I’m faster. He drops.
