"Sybil!" a voice roars back, rough, completely hoarse, and thick with smoke.
My heart stops.
The massive silhouette takes another step forward, the flashing red lights finally illuminating his face through the dissipating smoke.
It is Thayer.
But he is completely ruined.
The black tactical shirt he wore when he left the bunker is torn to shreds across his left shoulder, the fabric heavily soaked in a dark, spreading stain of fresh blood. A brutal, bleeding gash cuts across his sharp cheekbone, swelling his left eye. He is covered in ash, soot, and the unmistakable crimson of close-quarters combat. He looks like a demon crawling out of the deepest circle of hell.
I freeze, completely paralyzed. The heavy Glock is still raised, the barrel pointed directly at the center of his chest. My finger is entirely locked on the trigger, a millimeter away from applying the pounds of pressure needed to end his life.
Thayer doesn't raise his rifle. He doesn't seek cover. He completely ignores the lethal weapon aimed at his heart.
He drops his assault rifle to the concrete floor. It hits the ground with a loud, metallic clatter.
He takes a slow, heavy step into the bunker, his pale gray eyes locking onto mine over the sights of the Glock. The absolute, ruinous fire in his gaze is entirely unmasked, burning through the blood and the ash covering his face.
"You didn't shoot," he rasps, his chest heaving violently with every breath, the blood dripping from his shoulder to pool on the polished floor.
"You... you didn't use the scanner," I choke out, my arms beginning to violently shake under the weight of the gun and the catastrophic adrenaline crash. "The alarm..."
"The compound is breached," he states flatly, taking another step toward me, completely unbothered that I am still aiming the gun at him. "The Commission hit the main power grid. They bypassed the outer perimeter. We are engaged in a full-scale siege on the ground floor."
"The Capos?" I ask, tears finally blurring my vision, the sheer scale of the nightmare completely overwhelming me.
"They are fighting for me," Thayer says, a dark, blood-stained smile curving his lips. "I reminded them exactly why they should fear me more than the Commission."
He takes another step. He is less than five feet away now. I can feel the immense, radiating heat of his body, the absolute, terrifying aura of a man who just waded through an ocean of blood to get back to me.
"Put the gun down, Sybil," he commands softly.
"You're bleeding," I whisper, my eyes dropping to the massive, ragged tear in his shoulder. The amount of blood is terrifying. It is painting his entire left side in a thick, dark crimson gloss.
"I am breathing," he corrects, closing the final distance between us.
He reaches out with his uninjured right hand. He doesn't grab the barrel of the gun. He gently wraps his massive, callousedfingers entirely over my trembling hands, completely covering my grip on the weapon.
The contact is a violent electrical shock. The heat of his skin melts through the ice in my veins.
"You did exactly what I told you to do," Thayer murmurs, his thumb brushing over my white-knuckled grip. "You held the line. You protected yourself. I have never been more fucking proud of anything in my entire life."
The twisted, absolute devotion in his words completely shatters me.
I release the gun. Thayer takes the heavy weapon from my hands, expertly clicking the safety on, and drops it onto the marble vanity behind me.
The moment the weight of the iron leaves my hands, my knees buckle completely.
Thayer catches me before I can hit the floor. His massive right arm wraps around my waist, hauling me flush against his uninjured side. The scent of cordite, blood, and his heavy musk completely envelops me. I bury my face in his chest, my hands frantically clutching the fabric of his ruined tactical shirt, tears of pure, unadulterated relief soaking into the ash on his skin.
He survived. The monster came back to the cage.
"I thought they killed you," I sob, the sound entirely broken, completely exposing the terrifying depth of my trauma bond.
"They will never kill me, little bird," Thayer growls, burying his face in my hair, his grip on me impossibly tight, completely anchoring me to the earth. "Because if I die, who is going to keep you locked in the dark?"
Before I can process the terrifying, obsessive weight of his vow, the bunker’s red emergency lights violently flicker again.
