She wasn’t frozen.
She wasn’t broken.
And whatever this thing was, whatever had surged through her when she’d covered him with her own body, it hadn’t slowed her down.
Anja straightened, shoulders back, mind already moving ahead.Trauma didn’t get to decide what she did next.
Later, she’d think about her heart.Right now, she had work to do.
#
Chloe’s hands werestill locked around the seat belt when the screaming stopped.
Not because she wanted to be restrained, because Kayne had made sure she was.
“Chloe, stay in the vehicle.”
He said it once in that unyielding tone, and when she instinctively lunged for the door anyway, he’d thrown out,please.
She hated that more than anything.It meant he was scared too.
From inside the SUV, the world fractured into noise and motion.The gunshot had cracked so loudly it felt as if it had hit her body instead of her ears.She’d seen Leo stagger, and then Anja had slammed into him.Bodies scattered, and she heard someone scream in a pitch that scraped straight down Chloe’s spine.
“Leo,” she whispered, already fumbling for the seat belt latch, panic clawing up her throat.He was her anchor.She knew Kayne wanted her safe, but the word felt obscene while Leo was flat on the pavement and she was trapped behind glass, reduced to watching.
She pressed her palms against the window, breath coming too fast, vision tunneling.She could see him now.He was alive and sitting up, but that didn’t stop the terror from roaring through her veins.
Her gaze frantically searched for Kayne, needed to see that he was okay too.He’d taken off to see to the injured, and she spotted him helping someone on the ground.The absence of his body beside her was immediate and terrifying.
Only then had Chloe realized she was shaking hard enough to rattle the door.
She forced herself to breathe and call 911.After she disconnected, her fingers brushed the edge of the Kevlar vest beneath her coat.It was unfamiliar, something she still resented on principle.She’d argued about it that morning, rolled her eyes, and made a joke about turning into a walking tank.
Kayne hadn’t smiled.
The memory hit her now with brutal clarity, and her hand twisted into the fabric as if it were a lifeline.
Thank God.Thank God he’d insisted.
Because this wasn’t threats anymore.This wasn’t notes or photos or intimidation meant to scare her into compliance.Someone had fired a real gun at her family in public and decided fear wasn’t enough.They had crossed a line she couldn’t uncross with optimism or denial or pretending everything would be fine if she just kept moving forward.
Her stomach rolled as police flooded the scene authoritatively.The threat was over, so she opened her door so she could see Leo better, but she stayed inside as Kayne had insisted.She watched them speak to Anja, Leo, and the witnesses who looked stunned and furious.Yeah, get in line.She watched Kayne kneel in someone else’s blood, hands steady, voice calm, anchoring the chaos while her heart quietly fractured in her chest.
He was doing exactly what he’d promised: protecting everyone.Even if it meant she had to watch from behind bulletproof glass.
This was because of her.
That thought landed heavily and coldly.
She hugged herself tighter.The vest dug into her ribs, and for the first time since this nightmare began, she didn’t try to push the fear away.She let it sit.
Someone had upped the game and Chloe knew with bone-deep certainty that whatever came next wouldn’t be a warning.It would be meant to finish the job.
#
Kayne scrubbed hishands together, the water from the bottle already pink, then darker, then useless.Blood never really came off.It just thinned and spread.You could wash the evidence away, but not the weight.
He capped the bottle and flexed his fingers, forcing them steady even as the ambulance doors slammed shut and peeled away, the siren wailing like an accusation.The man inside had lost a terrifying amount of blood.Kayne had done everything right, from pressure to positioning to timing, but he’d learned a long time ago thatrightdidn’t guaranteeenough.
