She only felt anticipation. For this to be over. For Luke to reach her.
For the start of the rest of their lives.
CHAPTER 42
Luke
He sawit too late to cry out a warning.
A man behind her—too close, too fast.
He could only watch as Grace was jerked backward, sudden and wrong.
For a fraction of a second, the world slowed so violently it felt like it stopped.
Luke’s heart seemed to stop, too.
Then it slammed back into motion, hard and punishing, adrenaline flooding his system so fast it made his vision sharpen and narrow all at once.
No.
No, no, no?—
Rourke.
His body moved before his mind caught up.
Luke dropped the microphone and vaulted off the edge of the stage. The impact jarred up his legs, but he didn’t slow. He barely registered it. He was already running.
The crowd blurred.
Faces. Bodies. Color and noise and chaos.
He didn’t care about any of that. He only cared about one thing.
Grace. Grace. Grace.
The crowd was in his way. “Move!” His voice tore out of him, raw and feral.
Kids were screaming now. Parents were hauling them backward. Someone yelled for the police like he wasn’t already there, like he wasn’t tearing through the middle of the square with his lungs burning and his pulse hammering in his ears.
Training screamed at him to slow down. Assess. Call it in. Wait for backup.
He ignored it.
Every second was too long. Every step felt too slow.
He shoved through a knot of people, shouldering the adults aside, barely noticing the impact. His hands shook with the force of the adrenaline dump, fingers flexing and curling like they wanted something to hit.
Grace’s face was pale, her eyes wide. Her feet scrambling. Her body twisting.
Rourke's arm was locked around her, dragging her backwards — and the flash of metal at her ribs stopped Luke's heart cold.
There was something sharp and vicious in Luke’s chest, a living thing clawing its way up his throat.Fear. Fear like he’d never experienced before.
What if he was too late?
What if?—
