"Not without me," I snarl, grabbing her arm and pulling her back. I position myself between her and the kill zone, suppressing fire forcing the hostiles into cover.
"Move," I order, voice dropping into the command tone she recognizes. "Get Amelie to extraction. Now."
She obeys.
The embedded team surges forward, clearing the path while I provide covering fire.
North exit opens onto a service corridor. Extraction vehicle is outside, almost there, almost safe.
We push through the doors. I'm covering our six when Marissa gasps.
I turn and see blood soaking through her gown at the shoulder. She stumbles, and I catch her before she can fall.
"Stay conscious. That's an order." My voice drops into command register—the tone that makes people obey without thinking.
She laughs through the pain. "Using your Dom voice on me?"
"Damn right. And youwillobey." I keep her upright, keep moving. Blood soaks through my jacket, but her pulse is strong.
"Yes, Sir." The words are barely a whisper, but they're steady. Certain.
We reach the vehicle, and I help her inside before sliding in beside her. Amelie is already secured with an embedded operative, crying but safe. Her father will follow in a separate vehicle with his own security detail.
Our driver accelerates away from the Hotel de Paris as sirens wail in the distance. Monaco's police will lock down the area, but we'll be long gone before they arrive. Cerberus doesn't leave evidence.
I pull off my jacket and press it against Marissa's shoulder, trying to slow the bleeding. She hisses through her teeth but doesn't pull away.
"Through and through," she says, assessing her own wound with clinical detachment. "Missed the bone. I'll be fine."
"You'll be fine when I say you're fine." I keep pressure on the wound. "Stay conscious. Follow orders. I'm not losing you."
"So commanding," she murmurs, and her eyes meet mine with heat that cuts through the pain.
The extraction vehicle speeds through Monte Carlo's streets, taking corners fast enough to make Amelie whimper. I keep one hand on Marissa's shoulder, the other reaching across to touch Amelie's small hand where she clutches her crystal bracelets.
"You're safe," I tell the girl. "We've got you. Your father is coming."
She nods, tears streaming down her face, but there's steel beneath the fear. Strength that will carry her through this trauma and make her someone formidable when she grows up.
"Extraction vehicle en route to Port Hercules," Logan says through comms. "Helicopter is waiting at the harbor."
The time feels like hours. Marissa's breathing is becoming labored, and blood is seeping through my jacket despite the pressure I'm applying. She needs medical attention. Needs it now.
"Not going anywhere," she says before I can speak, voice weaker but steady. "You ordered me to stay."
"That's right." I lean closer, pressing my forehead to hers for a brief moment. "And you obey me."
"Always," she whispers. "Sir."
The vehicle pulls into the harbor extraction point, and I see the helicopter waiting, rotors already spinning. The embedded team moves with practiced efficiency, securing the perimeter while we load.
I carry Marissa to the helicopter despite her protests that she can walk. Amelie follows with an operative who's doing an admirable job of keeping the traumatized child calm. Laurent's vehicle arrives moments later, and the Deputy Director rushes to his daughter, pulling her into his arms with relief that makes his whole body shake.
"Thank you," he says to me, to Marissa, to everyone. "Thank you for saving her."
I nod. Laurent's gratitude doesn't need a response.
Marissa is already being treated by the helicopter medic when an explosion lights up the open water beyond the harbor. I turn and see flames rising from a boat that's cleared the breakwater, far enough out that the blast won't damage the docks or hurt civilians.
