Mateo’s expression sobered. “Plan B.”
Gaby frowned. “What’s Plan B? I don’t remember it from the briefing.”
“I’ll let you know when I come up with it.”
Boots pounded, and shouts cut through the smoke. Two guards rounded the corner ahead. Another pair closed in from behind.
Forward was a sheer drop, and the courtyard wasn’t an option.
Mateo swore. “We’re boxed in.”
Gaby and Mateo pivoted automatically, backs to each other, Natalie shielded between them.
“Disarm,” one guard called. “You’re outnumbered.”
Go to hellwas on the tip of her tongue, but before she could speak, a shot rang out. The lead man cried out, collapsing to one knee, clutching his thigh.
A second shot followed. The next man spun, clutching his bloody shoulder, and went down.
The remaining guards hesitated, scanning the smoke.
A shape moved through it. Not running. Advancing.
Rhys broke through the haze like something unleashed.
The last two guards rushed him, firing wildly. Mateo dropped one with a precise shot. Rhys closed the distance on the other, driving him into the wall hard enough to crack plaster.
From behind her, another guard ran past, not glancing at her and Natalie, dismissing them as a threat. Big mistake.
Gaby slammed into him, knocking him off-balance. Then she jumped onto his back, locking her arm around his throat.
“Help her!” Natalie cried.
The guard staggered, clawing at her grip, but she held fast.
It was enough.
Mateo stripped him of his gun, then Rhys sank a brutal fist into his gut. Gaby jumped clear when he wheezed and doubled over, seconds before Mateo finished him with a knee to the face.
Rhys turned to Natalie first. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, too shocked to speak.
Then his gaze found Gaby, relief in his blue eyes, followed by something raw and unguarded.
“What about you? Are you all right?” he asked softly.
She’d never been happier to see anyone in her life. Except maybe her sister.
Managing a faint smile, she replied, “I am now.”
He took her hand and squeezed. That’s when she saw the blood soaking his shirt.
“Rhys. Your side!”
He glanced down, unconcerned. “It’s nothing. A scratch at most.”
“A scratch doesn’t gush blood,” she shot back. “Hold still.”
